


Faded for Her

by ccbgb



Series: Faded Series [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 57,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccbgb/pseuds/ccbgb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas is a professor of Ancient History at a prestigious University but prefers to keep to himself. When he leaves class one night he witnesses a hit and run car accident. He manages to save the woman, Lavellan and Vice President of the University, from the resulting car fire and they soon become friends.<br/>(Eventual sex once their relationship is established(Chap. 12). Little violence, mostly the car crash and resulting injuries. Decided to remove the warning graphic depictions of violence, but there is some blood mention.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Meeting

Solas gathered his papers and shoved them haphazardly into his pack. Throwing the pack’s strap over his shoulder, his eyes swept the lecture hall one last time. No students had lingered. He was free to go home.

The university was silent at this time of night. As he walked across campus in the cool fall air, he reveled in the quiet. The fountain in the center of the quad shined, lit from the underwater spotlights. The beads of sweat that had coalesced upon his forehead during class began dissipating. He sat on the lip of the fountain, the cool spray at his back, covering his suit coat with dew.

He longed for it more often at the beginning of the semester. The bustling of the students during the day often kept him secluded in his office. Eventually he would become used to it once more but until then he would stay safely away from the crowds of pajama-clad college kids.

The main road that ran along the edge of the quad was all but deserted. He saw one car’s headlights, heard the reverberations of the bass. It passed and all he could hear was the fountain’s soft splashes.

Solas closed his eyes, basking in the night. All was as it should be.

 _TWINGSHHHHH_.

Solas opened his eyes. The sudden piercing sound of metal against metal echoed upon the empty halls of the small campus. He stood, his eyes taking in the scene that was still taking place on the road.

Two cars had collided, one’s front reminding him of an accordion. He ran forward, his pack slipping and falling to the pavement in front of the fountain. He reached for his phone in his pocket. The sudden nervous sweat that had broken out in his palms made the phone slip and fall out of his grasp the moment it was out of his pocket. Cursing, he continued running to the wreck, phone crashing to the hard concrete behind him.

The other car was not as damaged as the first, one headlight still flickering weakly. He heard the engine roar as the car swung into reverse and backed away. There was a screeching noise as the owner floored the gas pedal, speeding away from the wreck.

“Hey!” Solas cried in confusion, “Stop!”

Solas reached the street and watched the car swerve unsteadily as it drove away. His forehead creased in anger. A hit and run.

He turned his focus on the car that had still not moved. There was no movement from anyone who had been inside. The entire front of the car seemed destroyed and yet a soft light seemed to emanate from the car.

 _A fire_.

People were materializing out of the shadows, brought out from hiding in the night by the noise of the wreck. Solas did not know much about car fires but knew that if people got too close there would be injuries. The person inside…

“Fire!” he yelled, running to the car, “Stay back!”

He pulled at the driver’s door. He would not watch an innocent person burn to death. The door’s hinges had been damaged and the force of Solas tugging on them caused them to pop right off. The door fell at his feet and exposed the person stuck in the belly of the car.

The woman had been knocked unconscious, a large bloody gash on her forehead. The airbags were deployed but trapped her small frame against the car seat. Solas bent his head to get inside, hands struggling to get past the airbag and unlock her seatbelt.

The fire was now visible. The hood was rapidly catching. Sweat oozed out of his pores, the fire adding to his adrenaline. His hands fumbled out of sight behind the airbag, desperately grasping for the release mechanism. He felt a something solid and pressed down.

 _Click_.

The seatbelt retracted and Solas righted himself, working to free the woman from its clutches.

He reached down, arms wrapped around her legs and shoulders. He silently thanked fate for the woman being so lightweight and short. Solas carefully maneuvered her out of the doorframe and stood.

As soon as she was free and in his arms he begun running from the car. The fire burned bright, oil dripping from a cut line onto the pavement. He ran until he reached the other side of the road, facing the quad and the fountain. Someone was waiting for him.

“I called the cops,” he said, “Is she alright?”

Solas recognized the speaker as a professor from the English department, Professor Tethras. He laid the woman in the grass beside the sidewalk. Apart from the gash on her head she appeared unharmed.

“I don’t know. She may have some internal injuries we don’t yet know about. Until we know we’d do best not to move her.”

“Right,” Tethras said, removing his t-shirt. He kneeled beside the woman and wrapped the t-shirt gently around her forehead to stem the bleeding.

Solas knelt beside the woman and Tethras, holding a hand to his forehead. The car was letting out occasional popping noises. Sirens blared in the distance.

So much for peace and quiet.


	2. After

Solas sat at the fountain, holding his cracked phone. He had already conveyed his statement to Sheriff Pentaghast, as had Varric. The English professor had insisted that Solas call him by his first name after they applied first aid to the woman. The whole affair sent Solas’s skin prickling uncomfortably.

When the sheriff’s car had pulled up, the initial reaction from the sheriff had surprised him. The normally pulled together campus police sheriff had run over to the woman, terrified. That was about when Solas found out that the woman he had saved was the Vice President of the University, Ms. Lavellan.

He now stared at his phone, listening to the rush of the fountain behind him. As soon as the ambulance arrived he would feel like he could leave. For now he would sit at the lip of the water, singed suit coat beside him, the top three buttons of his shirt undone.

He saw the flashing lights of the ambulance in the distance. He stood, returning to the side of the road and Ms. Lavellan.

She hadn’t been moved. She laid still, hair pillowed around her face. The gash on her forehead had stopped bleeding thanks to Varric’s shirt. The rise and fall of her chest seemed normal. Her breath came out of her partly opened mouth with a slight whistle.

The ambulance pulled up, EMTs jumping out the moment the brake lights triggered. They surrounded Ms. Lavellan and lifted her small frame on to a stretcher. They accidentally jostled her head and she emitted a quiet whimper.

“God, we sure are lucky you were there,” Varric said, coming up from behind Solas and patting his back, “Otherwise she might’ve ended up like that.”

Solas followed the English professors eyes over to the burned husk of Lavellan’s car. A shiver shot down Solas’s back.

“I feel equally as thankful that I was at the right place at the right time,” Solas muttered, eyes going back and forth between the skeleton of the car and the ambulance.

The two professors stood in amiable silence as they watched the ambulance drive away. The Sheriff interrupted their quiet.

“I would like to thank you, Professors. Ms. Lavellan is greatly loved here on campus and without your aid this could have been much worse.”

“No doubt,” Varric said, “Without this woman the university would be in shambles.”

Solas nodded. With the recent passing of the university president, Ms. Lavellan had been running the administration. Had they lost her now…

He inwardly winced.

Solas began walking back to pick up his pack. Varric was right behind him.

“You need a lift to the hospital, Solas?”

Solas swung his pack over his shoulder and grabbed his suit coat. It was damp. He didn’t quite understand Varric’s question.

“And why would I do that, Professor Tethras?”

“Ugh, I told you to call me-“ Varric shook his head, “Nevermind. You don’t want to go see her? You did kinda _save_ her, y’know.”

“I am not looking for praise. Everyone seems sure she will recover. I do not see a reason to go.”

“I guess. Do what you like, then.”

Solas walked away, leaving Varric standing confused at the fountain.

All Solas wanted was a stiff drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will finally be interaction in the next chapter, I promise.


	3. A Second Encounter

The sound of backpack zippers and notebooks signaled the end of class. Solas glanced at the clock behind him. Three minutes left.

He sighed. “See you all next week.”

Chairs squealed making him wince. He turned his back to the class to clean the whiteboard. Shuffling footsteps echoed in the lecture hall, slowly trickling into the hallway. He wiped down the drawn black timeline of different ancient civilizations.

Someone behind him cleared their throat.

“Can I help you?” he asked, turning.

“Ah, you already did.”

Before him stood Ms. Lavellan, a large bandage on her forehead. Her smile was shy but she radiated confidence and beauty.

“Ms. Lavellan,” he said surprised and slightly breathless, “I apologize for not recognizing you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She laughed. “Don’t apologize, the last time you saw me I was unconscious and bleeding everywhere. Hardly the best way to meet someone.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Solas’s lips.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I wanted to stop by and thank you. I wasn’t entirely sure what would qualify as a ‘Thank You for Saving Me from a Burning Car’ Gift so-“

“There is no need to thank me, Ms. Lavellan,” Solas said, smiling, “I pulled you from that car as a fellow human being. I did not do it to receive praise.”

“Oh. I apologize, then.”

Her smile had faded and she looked confused. Solas immediately reevaluated.

“I did not mean to offend, Ms. Lavellan. I’d be happy to receive any gift you wish to give, I just did not want you to feel obligated.”

Her smile returned, though a fraction of what it had been. Solas admired how even in the windowless lecture hall her eyes shone. Her lips were parted slightly in the same way as they had been the night he had watched her be loaded into the ambulance. Something inside him stirred.

“Is there anything you would like to request, Professor?” she asked, “Any gift in particular you would like?”

Solas pressed his lips together. Ms. Lavellan was attractive but he knew he was taking this question incorrectly. They were in a lecture hall in the middle of the day, after all.

“What did you have in mind?” Solas asked, grateful for the desk between them.

“Oh, well, extra funding for the department, a few weeks vacation, I don’t know!” she said, grinning, “Shoot if you need a new car I can make things happen.”

Solas raised his eyebrows, “A new car? I figured you might be in the market for one of those yourself.”

Lavellan laughed. Solas felt the beast inside him stir once more and he pushed it down. She was an attractive woman and was perhaps using suggestive language but it was no excuse to resort to animalistic behavior.

“Well, perhaps,” she said, “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

Solas was silent for a moment, looking at his desk.

“Can the answer wait, perhaps? I may need some time to think about this.”

“Oh of course! Take all the time you need. You know where to find me.”

She turned to leave and he noticed the stiff way she moved. Her spine barely moved as she shuffled in short hesitant steps.

“Ms. Lavellan?” Solas called after her, “How are your injuries? Are you alright?”

Lavellan turned slowly and smiled.

“I’m in a small back brace. Whiplash. And this thing on my forehead,” she said, gesturing towards her head, “But otherwise fine. It could’ve been much worse.”

“Wait, you walked all the way here from the administrative building in a back brace?”

Her posture suddenly shrunk, shy and evading, “Ah. Maybe.”

“Ridiculous. Where are you going?” Solas said, shaking his head, “I’ll give you a ride.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask anything of you-“

Solas shrugged on his coat, thankful it was long and able to cover his slowly dissipating excitement. He slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Don’t think of it, Ms. Lavellan. I can’t let you walk far with that injury.”

“Alright,” she surrendered, “Thank you. I was actually going to go to the Deli across the way, if you’d like to join me.”

“Of course, Ms. Lavellan.”

“Alana.”

“Sorry?”

“Call me Alana.”


	4. The Deli

The name of the deli across the way was “The Deli”. Solas had seen it and dismissed it as dirty and rundown. When Alana led him through the door he tried not to scrunch his nose. The walls reminded him of a rundown gas station on a highway and the décor screamed thirty years old. He gazed at the faded menu above the counter and attempted to find something they couldn’t possibly foul up.

“What are you getting?”

He looked down and saw Alana turned towards him, alight with excitement. Solas attempted the best smile he could manage in the situation and tried to look at the menu again. He couldn’t focus. The stark contrast between her radiance and the ruins of a once popular deli shop kept shorting out his thought process.

“What do you recommend?” he finally asked, giving up on decisions.

“You allergic to anything?”

“No, but I dislike sausage.”

“I got just the thing then,” and she was ordering.

The order placed, they found a place to sit by the window. It was almost entirely empty in the deli, save for one college student who looked as if he hadn’t bathed in three days. Before Alana could attempt to sit, Solas pulled out a chair for her and kept a hand ready in case her back brace gave her trouble. It didn’t. She thanked him and sat.

He sat across from her and they both looked at each other for a moment. She averted her eyes almost immediately, running a hand through her hair. Solas became aware that he was staring and looked down at his hands.

“I hope this isn’t too awkward, Professor. I just don’t know how to thank you.”

He didn’t look up in case she was disappointed with how he was acting.

“No, not awkward, Ms. Lavellan-“

“Alana.”

“Alana. Not awkward, we simply don’t know each other yet.”

He attempted to look up at her and smile and it worked. Her teeth flashed in a quick grin before hiding them behind lips again.

“So I know you teach an Ancient Civilizations class. 300 level, I believe?” she asked.

“I do.”

“And you enjoy it? The kids enjoy it?”

He couldn’t tell if she was asking as the Vice President or as Alana. Solas decided to mediate his answer.

“I do enjoy it. There are a great many mysteries to be unraveled while studying civilizations that have turned to dust. The students, however…”

She looked at him, questioningly.

“Well, as you might imagine, with so little records and firm data, many civilizations seem the same to those not already interested. Students like to learn facts that they can put into papers and earn grades in so they can pass. Very few like to ask questions.”

Alana contemplated on this for a moment. Solas watched as she turned inward to process his words. When she concentrated a small knot formed between her eyebrows as they pulled together ever so slightly.

“I can imagine it’s difficult to be excited about mystery and speculation based on evidence,” she answered, “As the primary goal of the students right now is to pass and get their degree. They fear the unknown because then their grade will be unknown, possibly bad if they speculate incorrectly. It seems to be a difficult balance you would have to maintain.”

Solas raised his eyebrows. Before he had a chance to respond the man behind the counter called their order number. Alana tensed up to stand but Solas laid a hand on hers.

“I will get it,” he said, standing. She nodded her thanks and he went to grab the food.

As he brought the food back to the table he noticed how fresh everything looked. He set it down and Alana’s eyes sparkled, her mouth parted again. She picked up her sandwich and let him have the tray.

He looked at his sandwich warily, eyes keen on finding a hair or mold. Solas would not pick it apart to inspect it, lest he seem rude to Alana. He withheld a sigh and decided to bite into it and hope. The first bite entered his mouth and-

His eyes widened in shock. Alana looked at him and giggled.

“I know, right?” she said, words edging out between the food.

He swallowed before answering, “I’ll admit this is a pleasant surprise.”

They both chewed for a few minutes in silence, basking in the flavor of the sandwiches.

“So how do you maintain that balance?” she asked.

Solas rewound their conversation in his head.

“It is difficult. I try to have the students engage in class discussion but they are all either too afraid of failure or do not care enough to be bothered with the question. When I have them write papers or take tests I give them the least ambiguous evidence to work with or hard facts. I fear there may not be many actually interested in the class, but several who are willing to play along.”

Alana nodded. “You can’t win them all over. The best you can do is try and hope that something permeates their tired and confused brains. If they leave learning one thing you’ve done more than some professors.”

They had finished their sandwiches. Solas tried to be covert in looking at his watch but she was too quick.

“I’m sorry, do you have a class?”

“In half an hour. I don’t mean to rush you out. I can drive you back to the administrative building if you like.”

“If it’s any trouble-“

“None at all, Ms. Lavellan.”

“Alana.”

Solas wrapped up their trash, setting it on the tray. “Alana,” he said, “would you like to do this again? Tomorrow? My treat this time.”

Alana looked at him, really looked at him. He held her stare. She was the first to look away.

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, slow burn  
> Also I dont know why Solas doesn't like sausage. I have a feeling he's just weirded out by all the meats being shoved into one product.


	5. Obligation

“I despise this fountain.”

It was their fourth day in a row having lunch together. The day was beautiful and Solas had suggested they take their sandwiches to the quad. Alana happily agreed that the day was too nice to not take advantage of.

They sat on the fountain, much the same way Solas had sat the night of the crash. The lull in the conversation had been comfortable as they both ate their lunch. This was the first thing she had said in quite some time. He looked at her face and saw that her lip had curled.

“I’m surprised,” he admitted, “I find the fountain beautiful. A centerpiece to campus.”

“Yes, yes, it draws prospective students in, impresses the parents,” she scowled, “The most important landmark to upkeep the appearances of the school.”

Solas watched her, chewing slowly.

“You know what students see when they look at the fountain? They see their tuition. They pay all their money to go to the school with the fountain. It’s a status symbol. But all they see is their money going to fancy water.”

Solas looked around at the quad. Though it was just after noon, very few students stepped into the concrete circumference of the fountain. Many lay in the shade of the trees just off the edge of the quad. Their backs were to him.

Alana continued, gesturing in frustration, “The worst part is is that they’re right! I have receipts for cleaning crew of the fountain! I have electricity bills for the pumps! And now I have the board clamoring for me to install colored lights instead of the spotlights we already have. Not just colored lights either, lights that will go on and off so it gives the illusion of changing colors!”

Solas remained silent.

“That would mean installing at least six more waterproof lights, rewiring them all, and using up three times the electricity so that a computer can tell the lights when to turn on and off,” she said, her tone finally returning to a conversational cadence, “All so that they can pull a social media campaign to up enrollment.”

Silence fell upon the conversation again. Solas digested her words, thinking of the best way to respond. He was unsure there was a correct way.

“I’m sorry,” she said, catching him off guard, “I didn’t mean to rant. I just see the kids refusing to look at it and it sends my blood boiling. That money should really go to programs that need it, not some cosmetic campaign.”

“I did not mind the rant. I was interested in how in-tune you are with the students. It is a rare thing to see in administration these days.”

Alana looked over at him and smiled softly, grateful. Solas saw the spray from the fountain caught in her hair catch the sunlight, making her hair shine. His hand twitched while he thought of stroking her hair. Before he could do anything stupid a voice interrupted.

“Well if it isn’t the Good Samaritan and Our Lady President.”

“Varric!” Alana’s face lit up, her eyes and smile wide. Solas suddenly felt sick.

“How are you feeling, Alana?” Varric asked while giving her a short side hug.

“I’m doing fine, thanks to the Professor here-“

“Professor?” Varric said looking over at Solas with a raised eyebrow, “The man saved you from a burning car and has taken you out to lunch and you’re not even on first-name basis?”

Alana’s smile faded and she looked at Solas, worried. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I haven’t offended you, have I?”

“Not at all,” Solas said, forcing a smile. The comfortable way Alana hugged Varric had thrown him. Alana tried to smile back but it faltered.

Varric attempted to stem the awkward tide before it began. “Solas, don’t you have a class soon?”

Solas nodded, grateful for the exit that Varric was providing, if not suspicious of the man’s intent. He stood and Alana followed suit.

“If it’s alright, Prof- I mean, Solas, I’d like to walk back to my office today.”

“Of course, Alana.”

“I’ll leave you to it, Madame President,” Varric said, moving towards Solas, “I have something to talk about with your savior here.”

“Alright. I’ll see you two next week then! Have a nice Friday!” Alana said. Her smile was weak and confused. She turned to leave and Solas mourned the lost moment with her.

“What the hell are you doing, Samaritan?” Varric said once she was out of earshot.

Solas immediately regretted playing along with Varric. “Listen, if you two have a relationship I was not made aware of it. I can stop interfering if you like.”

Varric stared at him for a moment, eyebrows scrunched, confused. Then his face relaxed and he let out a laugh, his hand on his stomach.

“Oh no, you got it wrong,” Varric forced out between laughing, “I’m spoken for. Lavellan and I are friends, that’s it. I was wondering why the hell you haven’t made a move yet!”

The knot in Solas’s midriff unraveled. She was not seeing anyone then.

“I don’t know if it is appropriate,” he said to Varric, “I would like to, no doubt, but I do not want her to feel obligated. Not to mention, up until this point, I was unsure if she was seeing anyone.”

Varric shook his head. “Well, she’s not. And if you think that she keeps getting lunch with you because she feels obligated you’re either stupid or blind.”

Solas froze. Did that mean she also…? Had she told Varric? He looked towards her retreating form.

“You can still catch up to her, y’know.”

Solas dropped his pack and the remains of his sandwich. “Watch that, will you?” he muttered at Varric. Then he was running.

Solas ran, ignoring the students walking past him and staring, ignoring the sweat which had began accumulating under his arms. He dodged trash bins and sleeping students sunbathing on the concrete. Alana’s figure drew closer.

“Alana!”

Lavellan turned, eyes surprised and questioning. Solas slowed his gait, finally near enough to talk to her. He struggled to catch his breath.

“Is something wrong, Solas?” she asked, looking at the sweaty, disheveled professor before her.

“I just,” he panted, “I just wanted to know if perhaps we could get drinks after work?”

There was a dreaded moment of silence between them as Alana looked at him in surprise. Her face broke open in laughter and she nodded.

“Yes, I’d love to!”

“Fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than the previous chapters but so worth it  
> Solas you big nerd


	6. Ride

His nerves were on fire.

What had he been thinking? He had just met this woman, in extraordinary circumstances no less, at the beginning of the week. Now he adjusted his tie in the staff bathroom mirror wondering to say to her. Was it just a physical attraction? No, she was intelligent, worthy of her position. Was it wrong to commingle with the Vice President? God, he didn’t know.

He checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes. Time to get in the car.

Solas walked calmly to his car. He drove slowly through the campus roads eventually stopping in front of the intimidating administrative building. He sat in the idling car, waiting. He checked his watch. 3 minutes.

Their lunch conversations had been so superficial in retrospect. He listened more often than he spoke. A few uninterrupted hours of time with Alana and a beer in his hand would change that. Alcohol loosened pursed lips.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to know anything about him. The exact opposite, really. Which worried him.

A flicker of motion carried his eyes to the door of the building beside him. The door opened and Alana stepped into the night. In half a second Solas was out of the car and walking carefully measured steps towards her. She saw him and smiled, nervous. He would not allow his own unease to show. He would put her at ease if it killed him.

“Alana.”

“Solas,” she returned, “I feel a little silly, being unable to change.”

“You look magnificent always.”

Her face flushed in the midnight. Solas smiled, inwardly hoping it wasn’t too much too fast.

“Well, thank you,” she stammered.

As she reached the car he opened the passenger door for her. She whispered a quick ‘thank you’ and adjusted herself so that she could sit comfortably in the seat. When she was situated Solas closed her door gently and quickstepped to get in the driver’s door.

As they began moving she asked, “So where are we going, exactly?”

“I know a place. It is a little hole off campus. One of the few not swarming with underage students to run into,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed at that. “Good,” she said, “I wasn’t feeling like calling Cassandra to bust anyone.”

“You know Sheriff Pentaghast well, then,” he observed.

“Oh yes. Cassandra became my good friend when I began working here as a secretary in the President’s office. The campus police maintains a very close relationship with all the higher ups at all times.”

“Makes sense. So I should be wary should I get on your bad side, then?” he joked.

She snorted, “Well, don’t get on my bad side Professor and Cassandra will not see a reason to intervene.”

“I will be on my best behavior, in that case.”

He had not turned the radio on. As they sat quietly at a light, he marveled at the silence between them. It was no longer awkward but the air between them seemed to fizzle with tension.

“It’s my first time, you know,” she said, “Since the accident. Being in a car, I mean.”

Solas nodded solemnly. “You are comfortable, I hope?”

“A little nervous.”

“I do my best to be a safe driver. But worry no longer,” he said turning into a dark parking lot, “We are here.”

“It looks…“

Solas smiled, parking. He looked over at her and took her hand in his.

“I trusted you with the Deli. Trust me in this.”

The dim lights from the frosted windows of the bar caressed the left side of her face, plunging the other half in shadow. She nodded, smiling.

“I trust you. Let’s go.”

Solas let her words hang in the air for a moment as he looked at her. With a soft squeeze of her hand, he nodded and opened up his door. Within seconds he was at her door, opening it and offering her a hand. She took it without hesitation.

The door opened to the bar and Alana’s face was illuminated with a fluorescent glow.

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for her.

She walked in and he followed right after.

The bar was quiet, only a few patrons. There was a man in a suit sitting at the bar alone, a stiff drink in hand. Solas thought he recognized him as an art instructor. A couple sat in a dark corner in a booth, giggling quietly to themselves. A jukebox stood brightly next to the bar, its neon glowing. He didn’t recognize the song currently playing. The bartender saw him and waved.

“It’s… cozy,” Alana said, looking around, “And _clean_ for God’s sake.”

“A nice change, no?” he asked, chuckling.

“Why is no one here?”

“They don’t serve your regular tap here. No Miller or Budweiser here. Also the owner likes to play bad country music if someone is causing trouble. The kids who stumble in all think he is a supreme ass.”

Alana laughed, a hand raised to her mouth.

“So, Alana, bar or table?”

“Um, bar.”

“Tough day?”

“A bit.”

Solas guided her to the bar. He sat a few seats down from the art professor. Alana sat beside him, away from the professor. The bartender immediately came up to them, smiling.

“You brought a friend, Solas!”

“I did, Wiz.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day. What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a Fosters.”

“Of course. And for the lady?”

Alana looked at the tap heads, forehead scrunched in concentration. “Have any Newcastle?” she asked.

“We just got the Werewolf in, ma’am,” the bartender replied without flinching.

“Oo, yes, one of those please.”

Wiz went to pour the glasses and Solas looked at Alana, eyebrows raised.

“What? A woman can’t appreciate beer?”

“No, of course you can. I just did not peg you for a beer woman.”

The glasses arrived and she sipped at the head of the Newcastle, “What did you peg me as? I also like frilly drinks, if that helps.”

Solas laughed. “Hard liquor, actually.”

“Rarely,” she said smiling around her glass, “The circumstances must demand it.”

They chatted over their beers until they were empty. Wiz came to refill them and Solas realized his nerves were no longer on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These keep ending up longer than I intend. Oh well. Next chapter shortly. I wouldn't do that to you guys.  
> Also I really want a beer now.


	7. Lecture

They were five beers down. A little over two hours had passed. Both their faces were flushed and smiling.

“And another thing,” Alana said, “Why don’t they just name me President already? I know they need to elect me officially but why take so long? I’m doing all the work without the pay. It’s fucked.”

“Indeed. You’d make a wonderful President.”

“It’s because I’m a woman, I tell you. Never had a woman President here. Afraid to break tradition. It’d be like pissing in the fountain. And now that I’m injured it just casts more doubt on my ability to run. Why’dchu think I came in to work the morning after the crash?”

“Impressive indeed. I’d willingly piss in the fountain if it meant you’d get the position.”

“Let’s do it.”

Solas sputtered in his drink. “You’re not serious, Alana.”

“Fuck ‘em they shove chlorine in that thing every Monday. No one’s drinking out of it.”

She was certainly a lightweight. Solas laughed. He was not drunk enough to piss in the fountain, let alone bring the Vice President of the University with on her suggestion.

“Perhaps another time.”

“Fi-ine,” she exaggerated, “I swear, I won’t become President until you piss in that fountain now, just you watch.”

“If things become that desperate I’ll be sure to take one for the team,” he promised.

She drained her glass and set it down on the bar. Wiz came up as if on cue.

“Another, Ms. Lavellan?”

Alana looked at Solas.

“Do as you please, Alana,” he said, “It is my treat.”

“Are you going to have another?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Then neither will I.”

Wiz nodded, gathering her glass and left. Solas sipped at the dregs of his own beer. His head felt stuffed with cotton. He had not gotten this inebriated with someone in some time.

Alana was staring off in the distance, pleasantly drunk but still with her wits about her. Solas admired her flushed cheeks, the way her hand wrapped around the back of her neck when she grew tired. Her lips were parted again, that slight gap exciting the beast inside him. He licked his lips. Too fast. Couldn’t go too fast.

“Is there anything you would like to do after this?” he asked, “Or would you prefer to go home?”

Alana looked at him. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“You can’t drive. We can’t go home.”

“Good point. Then where would you like to go? Do you mind walking? Or I could call a taxi, I suppose.”

“No,” she said shaking her head, “Let’s go somewhere. Let’s walk. I feel stuffy. Air would be nice.”

“Grab your jacket then. I’ll finish up here.”

Alana stood. Solas did not have to flag down Wiz, he had already appeared. He was uncanny in that way.

“Tab?” Wiz asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Solas answered, “Can I leave my car?”

“Of course, Solas.”

“Thank you.”

Alana stood waiting by the door. Solas grabbed his jacket and walked to meet her. They stepped outside into the cool night air and Alana released a sigh of pleasure. Solas was glad for his long jacket as the beast inside him stirred.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked.

Alana closed her eyes and held out her hand. She twirled her outstretched arm around, pointing. Her arm settled in one direction and she opened her eyes.

“That way.”

“Alright.”

They began walking down the street. The cool breeze rustled the leaves above them and cleared Solas’s stuffy head. Alana seemed to receive a similar effect. Their flushed faces cooled and their steps were not as uneven as they had thought they might be.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked.

Solas furrowed his brows. “Do what?”

“Save me.”

Solas raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Alana wasn’t looking at him, however. He returned to looking forward.

“I don’t know. I just did. Instinct, I suppose.”

“It was your instinct to run towards a burning car?” she chuckled.

“Well, no, but I couldn’t let someone die in front of me.”

“I could very well have been dead already.”

Solas’s steps faltered for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about that. I just knew I had to try.”

Alana didn’t respond.

“Do you suspect ulterior motive?”

“Oh no, Solas, I know there’s no way you could’ve known who was in the car. I just wondered, is all.”

They walked in silence for a while. Solas pondered as to what she could be thinking about. Fate? Obligation? God? She was difficult to read. The space between the trees became shorter and he realized they were nearing the edge of campus. He could see the faint glow of the fountain in the distance.

“You’re not doing this because you feel sorry for me, are you?”

Solas stopped. Alana had stopped walking and was looking in the distance, towards the fountain. He stepped in front of her, looking at her face to face.

“Alana, you’ve changed me.”

He raised a hand to her face and gently turned her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were wide. His fingers tingled with the softness of her skin. They had not been so close before.

“Changed you?”

“The car accident,” he choked out, back tracking in an attempt to not seem so desperate or cheesy, “I realized that if I could save someone from a burning car I could handle most anything. And then you…”

Alana stared at him, waiting.

“I never realized someone could pull me away from myself as much as you do. I haven’t been out with someone in years.”

“Years?”

Solas nodded, lips tight. The beast was growling inside him, her vulnerable face in his hand, her eyes reflecting the starlight above them.

Without warning she reached up and kissed him.

The shock of the kiss sent him backpedalling. “I don’t know-“ he started.

“Come here,” she whispered.

The beast had won. He returned, placing his hands on her hips as he kissed her full on the mouth. His hands were drifting and her hands were around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss ended as suddenly as it had started. Alana’s eyes had a glazed look about them, her cheeks once again flushed.

“Not here,” he rasped.

“Where?”

“My office is just across the street.”

“Right.”

They walked, his hand on her waist, occasionally drifting to her back. As they reached the building Solas fumbled in his pocket for his keys to the building. Alana leaned against the wall by the door. Solas did his best to focus on the key ring but his ravenous excitement and her flushed body made his fingers shake. Finally the door was open.

They entered the building and Alana pushed open the first lecture hall that was unlocked. Solas looked at her as she stood in the dark doorframe.

“Do you really-?”

“Yes.”

Solas followed her in. She walked backwards, slowly, backing herself up against the head desk in the room. He leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her on the desk. Alana leaned back and immediately winced.

The back brace.

“Oh Christ,” she muttered.

“It’s alright,” he said, straightening up, “This was unwise.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s quite alright. We’re both a bit out of our senses. You’re in a back brace.”

Alana laughed, “And we’re in a lecture hall.”

“Also that.”

“I’m sorry, Solas-“

He held a hand to her face. “Don’t be sorry. I’d like to buy you dinner first, anyway.”

That sent Alana into a giggle fit. Solas smiled, leading her out of the lecture hall and out into the night air.

“To the nearest nurse office or back to the car?” he asked.

“I think my dignity can make it back to the car.”

“Very well.”

As they walked back to the car she wrapped her hand around his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha sorry. But drunk first date sex in a back brace is just not happening. Also I love parallels so Im attempting to parallel some dialogue from Solas Romance cuts.


	8. Eggs

Solas stretched, eyes still hazy. His balance skewed and he barely caught himself in time. Where-

His eyes adjusted and he realized the room he had woken in was not one of his.

He was laying on a brown sofa, one red pillow stuffed under his head and and a hand-knit blanket loosely covering his torso. His suit coat was on the coffee table in front of him. He was stripped down to his undershirt and unbuckled pants. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the picture window in front of him.

Solas sat up, rubbing his forehead, evaluating his hangover. Some light sensitivity and a light headache. Nothing some coffee couldn’t fix. Surely Lavellan had some coffee-

He froze remembering the night before. Nothing had happened after the foolish attempt in the lecture hall and yet he felt wrong. Awkward. He would have to apologize somehow.

But first, coffee.

Solas stood, buttoning his pants and throwing on his button up. He didn’t bother buttoning the shirt or grabbing his suitcoat. He figured they were past the point of formalities.

Her house wasn’t small but cozy. The open floor plan kept the kitchen just a short distance from where he had woken and he set to finding himself sustenance.

As he passed into the kitchen he looked down the offshoot hallway. There were 3 doors, all closed but for the furthest one in the hall. The soft sound of her snore was noticeable in the quiet house. Solas smiled at the innocent noise. Let her sleep it off.

Her snore had given him an idea to ease the oncoming awkwardness. He delved into her cupboards and the fridge to find something to make for breakfast. Almost every shelf was empty. He found a carton of eggs with only four left, one green pepper looking suspiciously pale, and a half of a loaf of bread. He would make due.

Halfway through his breakfast endeavors he heard the soft footsteps down the hall. Occupied with the frying pan, he settled with acting as if he belonged. In his peripheral vision he saw her small form enter the kitchen and freeze.

He looked over, spatula in hand, smiling. “Good morning.”

“Am I still dreaming or is there a man in my kitchen cooking me breakfast?” she asked, a hand running through her hair.

“How is your head?”

“Right. Not even in my worst nightmares do I wake with a hangover.”

Solas turned back to the stove, testing the eggs. Alana walked over to him to see what he was cooking. He did his best to not focus on the amount of skin she was showing. She wore a large t-shirt, the bones of the back brace poking through, and boxers. Her shoulders were bare, as were a majority of her legs. Solas studied his omelet.

“Yours is on the table, if you would like,” he said, not taking his eyes off his omelet, “All I could find for cheese was the shredded cheddar in the bottom drawer. I hope that is satisfactory.”

Alana turned to look at her plate on the table. He had cooked her a perfect omelet, cheddar and green pepper with a side of buttered toast and a cup of coffee.

“Solas, this is- I should be cooking for you!”

“Nonsense.”

Alana moved past him, towards the table. Solas heard the chair scrape across the tile and he smiled. He flipped his own omelet and grabbed a plate. As he moved his own food onto the plate he heard the scrape of a knife on her plate.

Solas turned with his own plate just as she took her first bite. Her eyes closed and a soft moan hummed in the back of her throat.

“Satisfactory, I hope?”

“Very.”

He sat across from her, grabbing his own coffee and taking a drink. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of using your food.”

“Not at all. I didn’t even know I had omelet stuff. I thought the green pepper had gone off by now.”

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “It was a bit off. The center was still good, however, so I only used the bits closest to the middle.”

“You’re brilliant.” Her eyes opened and she looked at him, fork in hand.

Silence hung between the two of them as they chewed for a moment.

“I feel like I should apologize for last night,” Solas finally said.

“Don’t,” she said, dismissing the statement with a wave of her fork, “We were both a little drunk. And if I remember correctly, _I_ should be the one apologizing.”

Solas chuckled, “I believe we are both equally guilty in some respect.”

“Exactly. Which is why you shouldn’t apologize.” She took a bite of toast. “We’re both consenting adults here. I just don’t want that to make things difficult between us.”

Solas felt his stomach knot. “Difficult how?”

“Oh no, no, not like that,” she said putting a hand to her face, “Sorry, it’s early, I’m hungover, and I woke to handsome man in my kitchen making me an omelet.”

The knot unraveled and Solas smiled down at his food, picking up another bite. “Handsome?”

She smiled and good-naturedly spat, “Shut up.”

His grin grew wider and his eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“I just meant we moved a little quick. I’d like to get to know you a bit better.”

“I agree. I meant it when I said I’d like to buy you dinner first.”

When she was silent he looked up to see her blushing, looking at her eggs. His chest swelled, excitement tingling in his stomach. Alana looked up and caught his eyes, her lips parted.

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the week starting tomorrow I'll have trouble updating but I'll do my best.


	9. Terry Wolfe

Solas sipped his coffee as Alana began running water in the sink to wash the dishes. He noticed how her hips shifted their weight every so often, as if slowly dancing to some unheard song. An errant thought ran unhindered through his mind: _I wonder when the back brace comes off._

The coffee mug was suddenly empty. He frowned at the cup, realizing his stay with Lavellan grew short.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, hoping she would let him, knowing she wouldn’t.

“No, no, I got it. You made breakfast, I can clean it up.”

He sat for a few moments, thinking how best to exit. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what the steps of the courting dance were. Should he ask her out again? Should he just leave after making sure she had his number?

With an internal sigh he settled on gathering his things first. Either way he would soon wear out his welcome.

Solas walked the short distance back to the living room. He gathered his suit coat and phone that lay on the coffee table. Buttoning his shirt, he noticed a bookcase against the wall. Curiosity got the better of him.

There were classics, a dictionary, some college textbooks. The top shelf held paperbacks of all genres- horror, romance, fantasy. He noticed that of all her fiction books many had a high fantasy theme. Dragons, knights in shining armor, and magic. His eyes scanned the rows, entertained and interested.

His eyes halted on a familiar paperback. The spine was bent and weathered, the entire book sticking out slightly more so than the others on the shelf. Solas braced himself and pulled it out. Sure enough. _Faded for Her_ , Terry Wolfe. The book was dog-eared and had substantial water damage, perhaps from a time read in the bath. A coffee stain marred the back cover and the last few pages. Solas’s stomach dropped. Alana loved this book. He quickly put it on the shelf to avoid questions.

Sure enough, the moment his hand dropped back to his side she was in the living room.

“You approve?” she asked, scanning the shelf herself.

“You have many interesting selections here,” he said, doing his best to sound cheerful.

She laughed. “Interesting is one way to put it. ‘Disorganized’ and ‘all over the place’ are others. I like everything. It’s chaos.”

“Not completely. You do seem to enjoy high fantasy.”

Blush rose to her cheeks and she averted her gaze. “Yeah, I’m a huge nerd.”

Solas smiled and turned her face to his own. Her face was flushed with embarrassment but she looked into his eyes.

“I like fantasy as well, Alana. You don’t need to be embarrassed about something you like.”

She smiled. Solas kept her face there for a moment and they looked at each other. Without warning she moved up and forward, planting a quick kiss on his lips. In surprise, his hand left her face. When they were parted, she smiled even bigger. Solas laughed.

“You are something,” he said.

“Something can mean a lot of things.”

“Well your something is made of good things.”

“Good to hear.”

She turned to look at the couch and when her eyes met his again there was a quiet melancholy about her.

“Going soon, I suppose?” she asked.

“I do not wish to overstay my welcome. Though if you would like to do something later today I would be happy to.”

Alana thought for a moment before responding, “No, actually, I have somewhere to be today. Going out with a friend to a movie.”

“Of course. May I ask when you would like to do dinner, then?” he asked.

“How’s next Friday night?”

“Perfect.”

She grabbed her phone from somewhere behind her and they exchanged numbers.

“I’ll see you on Monday then, Alana,” Solas said, lingering at the door.

“See you Monday, Solas,” she said softly. Then the door was shut.

As Solas drove home he couldn’t help but chew over the book by Terry Wolfe on her shelf. He knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he shouldn’t care.

Solas entered his home and went immediately to the bookshelf. He had published many books as an expert on ancient civilizations. It was not uncommon. But there, hiding on the bottom shelf, the first print of _Faded for Her_. His lip curled as he looked at the book, never opened or read. His publisher had assured him that the pseudonym wasn’t obvious, that he would forever be unknown to be the writer of this book. For that he was glad.

He had written it in a fit of hatred, a sarcastic rendition of 19th century romance novels. It had blown up in the mainstream, being hailed as one of the most “historically accurate” and “dramatic books of our time”. For that, he despised it.

The state of Alana’s book betrayed how much she loved it, how many times she had read it. The thought of her reading his sarcastic words in sincerity made his stomach turn.

She could never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in writing. I haven't abandoned you, I just get busy during the week. So here's a nice sneak peak at the terrible things to come. Terry Wolfe (snicker).


	10. One Week

Monday arrived much as Alana did to his office- quietly and without much fuss. Going to the Deli was no longer a question so much as an excuse to be together. Lunch would pass with smiles and good food. He would drive her back to her office and he would return to teach his class. Their week passed this way, both happily stuck in their routine.

There were variations- Tuesday both Cassandra (“Do not call me Sheriff, Professor, unless you are intending to be arrested in the near future”) and Varric joined them at the Deli for lunch. He had never seen Alana laugh as hard as she did at Varric’s stories. Her nose would scrunch, eyes closed, and hold her stomach as her laugh echoed in the all but empty deli. Cassandra would chastise Varric as tears escaped from Lavellan’s eyes, whether from pain in her back, laughter, or both. Solas smiled all the while, one leg against Lavellan’s.

Thursday they decided to venture outside of the Deli and try a popular coffee shop on the corner. As they sat, jam packed among other patrons, most of who were students, they sipped their coffee and nibbled at their food. Alana would study patrons, smiling at their small idiosyncrasies as they spoke to each other. She would relay information about what couples looked like they were on their first date or whom the boy two tables over was texting based on his body language. Solas watched her people watch, Alana too enthralled with the crowds to notice that Solas studied her the same way she studied them. Her half smile when she saw a couple in new love. Her nose wrinkling when she concentrated. The way her lips parted when she found her answers. Most of all, the way she looked at him, excited to share her revelations.

Every night Solas would come home and clean a different room of his house. The living room was soon presentable, the kitchen spotless. He did the mountain of laundry he had been neglecting for weeks and washed his bed linens for good measure. The only room he left untouched was his study.

He was shopping on Thursday night when he felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket. He parked himself and his cart out of the way of the other customers and looked at the text he had received.

_Hey sorry for not telling you today but I wont be able to do lunch tomorrow!_

His heart dropped. He desperately hoped this didn’t mean dinner was also in question.

_Are we still doing dinner?_ He texted.

Solas loathed waiting on the side of the aisle, holding his phone. Beside him people moved past him, children babbling in cart seats, businessmen talking on their Bluetooth. Just as he considered moving on, his phone buzzed in his hand.

_Yes! I won’t be at school tho so pick me up at my house?_

A small smile played at his lips.

_Sure. 8 ok?_

_Yep :)_

Solas continued his shopping, a new bounce in his step. Missing lunch with her was a small price to pay for what he was planning for Friday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short but I'll be posting more today. Trust me, one short fast forward through a week is worth what you'll be getting in the next few chapters.


	11. 5 Star Restaurant

It was time.

Solas had driven home, changing into a nicer suit. As he stood in front of the mirror adjusting his cufflinks, he took a steadying breath. This was one hell of a gamble.

At eight o’ clock sharp he pulled into her driveway. The living room light was on and as he knocked on the door he saw her silhouette dart through the living room to turn off the light. Then the door was open and she stood there in a casual, floor-length green dress. Solas immediately noticed the way she was standing, body no longer stiff and rigid.

“The back brace!” he said, a little breathless.

“Had my appointment to get it off today,” she said, all smiles, “Perfect timing, if I do say so myself.”

“Almost as if planned.”

“Oh, as if, I’ve had this appointment made since last Tuesday.”

“As you say, Alana.” He offered his hand out to her. She took it and allowed him to guide her to the car.

As the car began moving she asked, “So you told me a dress. How fancy is this place?”

“Not very, actually,” Solas admitted, “But I thought our first real date deserved something special.”

Alana twisted her mouth, confused. Her lipstick shined in the headlights of passing cars and Solas did his best to focus on the road. It was difficult, as her dress had slits up the sides of the legs, revealing one smooth leg. The beast was roaring but he refused to let it win. Not yet.

As Solas turned on to a residential street, Lavellan shifted in her seat, looking for a sign of a restaurant. Her confusion was becoming more and more pronounced. If Solas knew her half as well as he thought he did he knew she would soon no longer be able to contain herself.

Sure enough within two stop signs she asked, “We’re not going to a restaurant are we?”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

She relaxed against his leather seat. “I trust you.”

The matter-of-fact way she said it threw him. The thought of the Wolfe book in her living room gnawed at his mind but he refused to let it make him guilty.

He pulled into his driveway, his house lit from the inside. Lavellan looked over at him as he put the car into park.

“Welcome to my home, Alana. I have dinner prepared.”

Alana laughed, kissing his cheek, sending a pleasant shock through his system.

“You are such an unorthodox gentleman, Solas.”

“Ah, but I am a gentleman.”

Solas got out of the car and opened her door, taking her hand. He led her into his home, the living room transformed into a dining room. His normal kitchen table sat in the center of the room, covered in a white tablecloth. There was a candle burning in the center of it. Alana giggled as he sat her in one of the two chairs at the table.

“Dinner will be ready momentarily.”

“What’s for dinner, then?” she asked.

“Seasoned and breaded pork chops, garlic mashed potatoes, steamed asparagus, and dinner rolls. Dessert is a surprise.”

Alana’s smile was that of disbelief. “You have all that ready?”

“Well,” he admitted, “The pork chops still have a few minutes if I remember right, but everything else was being kept warm while I picked you up. So it’s not necessarily freshly made.”

“Solas, this is…” she fumbled for words, watching the candle wax drip down slowly from the wick.

“Too much?” he asked.

“No,” she said quickly, “Very romantic. I can’t tell if you’re being sincere or play-acting.”

“Can I not be both?” he asked.

Before either could respond, a timer beeped urgently from the kitchen. Solas walked to the kitchen, silencing the timer with one finger. Opening the oven door, he heard the meat sizzling quietly. The aroma was tantalizing, very much like Alana’s dress. He checked the meat’s internal temperature and, satisfied, pulled them out to cool for a moment. Solas began making the plates, garnishing the potatoes and peppering the asparagus.

“What would you like to drink?” he called out to Alana.

“What’re you having?”

“I’ll be having a Domaine DuPage.”

“Surprise me, then.”

Solas looked in his fridge. He had already bought her beer he knew she would like. He brought out the butter dish and the beers. When he walked in she had been examining his bookshelf. A knot gathered in his stomach for a moment before remembering he had hidden the Wolfe book in his study.

Turning, she smiled and examined the beer. “Prairie Path? How on Earth did you know-?”

“I guessed,” he admitted, “Based on your beer choice last week.”

She nodded and sipped the head of the beer, leaving red imprints on the side of her glass. He hopped back to the kitchen, finishing the plates off with the pork chops. He entered the living room and she was seated, expectant. As he set the plate in front of her, her eyes closed and she inhaled.

“Solas this smells absolutely wonderful!”

“Let us hope it tastes as good as it smells, then.”

He sat and waited for her to take the first bite. She did and smiled as she chewed. Satisfied, Solas also began eating.

“You have quite a collection,” she said between bites.

“That is just my first bookcase,” he explained, “I keep most of my reference material and heavier reading in my study.”

She raised her eyebrow. “That’s light reading?” she asked, gesturing with her fork to the bookcase behind her, “ _Roots_ , Alex Haley? _The Secret Life of Objects,_ Dawn Raffel?”

He shrugged. She laughed.

“I thought you enjoyed fantasy,” she said.

“I do. Just in smaller doses. I channel it away from reading, actually.”

“Where do you channel it?”

“Painting.”

“You paint?”

“Some. I am by no means a Rembrandt or Picasso, I assure you.”

“I’d like to see them sometime.”

“Of course.”

His beer was empty. He stood to fetch another, asking if she needed another. She nodded. He came back with both beers and began to finish his plate.

“I hope it all tastes satisfactory.”

“Oh, Solas, it’s amazing. I should’ve guessed, based on those omelets you made last week.”

“Omelets are simple enough. To be fair, this is simple enough as well.”

“I burn anything I touch,” she said, laughing between bites of mashed potatoes, “To me this is the feat of a master chef.”

Her plate was nearly empty. He took his own to the kitchen sink under the pretense of cleaning up. In truth he was checking on dessert.

“Solas, is something else cooking?” her voice called from the other room.

“Yes. Dessert.”

He heard a muffled “Oh God” from the other room and he chuckled.

Within half an hour he was bringing out slices of warm apple pie, ice cream melting on top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both books mentioned are quite good but require some heavy patience in reading. One more chapter (at least!) will be up today- a Valentine's treat for everyone :)


	12. Fully Clothed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning- explicit content in this chapter.

They sat in good-natured silence, their pie plates empty in front of them. They sipped at their beers and Solas stole quick glances at Alana’s exposed shoulders. The thin swooping curve down to the arm. The freckles that sprinkled across them, popping against the green dress. The freckles that peppered her cheeks, the cheeks with a rosy glow. Her lips-

Solas willed himself to stop. The beast was pacing frantically. He did not attempt to calm it, the effort was pointless.

The candle was burning low, wax covering the metal candleholder, a few red drops escaping onto the white tablecloth. From across the table he caught her staring at him. Her eyes burned into his and he refused to look away. Unlike the first day they met, she did not avert her gaze. Instead she smiled.

“Dinner was wonderful, Solas.”

“Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it.”

Neither had shifted their stare. Tension crackled in the air, putting the small hairs on his arms and neck on end. It was not unlike standing next to a lightening rod when it was struck. Beneath the table her knee bumped into his. His mind sprung the image of her bare leg in the car at him, unrelenting in his lust. Solas shifted his sitting position, his steadily growing arousal becoming uncomfortable.

They had still not broke eye contact.

“I’d like to see your paintings.”

“I fear that they are in the one room I did not clean before your arrival.”

“I don’t care.”

“Very well.”

He stood, one hand in his pants pocket to hide his ill-timed erection. She stood and he wrapped his free hand in hers. They walked down the hall to the one closed door.

He looked at her, refusing to appear hesitant, “I would appreciate if we did not visit this room long.”

“No problem.”

He opened the door and stood back. Alana walked ahead of him, still holding his hand loosely. He watched as her lips parted in awe, her hips shifting her weight to turn and look around.

His study was filled with paintings hanging to dry or thrown haphazardly in stacks along the bookcases. Blacks, reds, whites, and blues popped in his style, somewhat reminiscent of art nouveau. Many were scenes out of mythology or legend of the ancient civilizations he studied.

“Solas they’re beautiful,” Alana whispered, reverent. Her thin form twisted gently as she turned to look, to take everything in. He watched her chest move as she breathed, her hair glowing in the overhead light.

“You are so much more so,” he said.

Her eyes flicked back to him. Neither of them were smiling, the heat between them rising exponentially with every second. The air crackled, her lips, her parted lips-

Solas pulled her arm to bring her into his arms. He kissed those parted lips with pent up passion, a hand running through her hair. He felt her one free hand wrap around and settle between his shoulder blades.

He broke the kiss, breathless. Alana rested her forehead against his, breath hot and smelling sweetly of apple pie.

“Is this-“ he began to ask.

“Yes,” she breathed, putting her lips to his again.

He could taste the pigment of her lipstick on his tongue, her breath mingling with his. Her hair was soft in his hand. His other hand had abandoned his pocket and was against her waist.

They broke apart again, breathing heavily. With one fluid motion Solas pulled her legs out from under her and carried her in his arms. Alana gasped in surprise, giggling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His kissed her giggling mouth quickly before maneuvering her further down the hall to his bedroom. He lowered her onto the bed, sitting himself beside her in the same motion. Solas rolled himself on top of her and hovered, hands indenting the bed on either side of her head. Her hair spilled around her, her dress hitching itself up from the sudden movement.

“You’re sure-“ he started.

“Solas,” she whispered, a hand running up his arm, “ _Yes_.”

He leaned down, kissing her again, using one hand to trail the curves of her body lightly. His hand reached the slit in the side of her dress and he touched her bare skin. The touch sent a shiver down his body and he gripped her thigh, rubbing his thumb along the inside of her leg. Alana moved beneath him, reacting to his touch.

Solas became bold. He broke the lip lock and hitched up her dress around her waist. He felt her hands on his face and he let out a soft moan. The beast was ravenous now, frantic. His hands traveled into her undergarments and she moaned. The sound sent him reeling. His fingers began stroking, the more noise she made, the faster he would go. Alana was bucking beneath his fingers, panting. Solas grabbed on of the hands on his face and pinned it down beside her head. Her other hand clenched at his sheets.

She was close. He inserted his fingers inside of her and she let out a small yelp. He slowed his movements and her hips rolled with every movement of his fingers.

“Please,” she whispered, “Please.”

Solas almost lost control. He withdrew his fingers and fumbled with his pants. A steady hand grabbed his. Alana reached forward and unbuttoned his pants, a sensation that drove Solas to the edge. She was adept and within moments he was back on top of her, her underwear pushed to the side. He hovered just before her entrance.

Solas looked at her, hair pushed back and lips parted. She stared back at him, breathing heavily. She nodded once. He entered.

They both shivered, releasing pent up breath. Solas started slow but soon the passion overtook them both. They were both bucking, thrusting, panting. He wouldn’t last long. This moment had been eluding them both for too long.

She cried his name and he gave it his all. Within seconds of her own shuddering and clenching he lost control, releasing himself into her.

He pulled out immediately afterward and rolled over. They lay there, looking at the ceiling, panting loudly. The beast lay down, exhausted.

Alana propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He looked at her, judging her reaction.

She began giggling. He raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“You didn’t even take off your coat,” she giggled.

Solas looked down at himself, his deflated penis sticking out of his perfectly groomed suit. He began laughing, straight from the stomach. Alana joined, her dress still hitched around her waist.

They lay beside each other, laughing and happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day, have some long awaited smut!  
> God I haven't written smut in years. I hope this isn't too terrible.


	13. Morning After

Soft morning light filtered through his eyelids. Solas’s eyelids fluttered open, staring at his white ceiling.

In the fogginess of morning, he began to roll over. He nearly rolled on top of Alana as she lay beside him, sleeping. Solas stared at her, confused, frozen mid-roll. She was sleeping peacefully, a trickle of drool escaping her mouth. The previous night rushed back to him and he relaxed.

A mostly naked woman in his bed- Solas had not dealt with this situation in some years and he enjoyed the freshness of it. A bed was bigger alone, but emptier. His bed now felt whole.

Solas watched her sleep. Her hair was mussed from the previous night’s excursions, her face tranquil with whatever dream she was in. Her soft snore reminded him faintly of the noises she had made the night before. The beast growled, low in his belly.

The clock on the end table behind her read nine thirty-two. He did not know if she had expected to stay the night or if she had plans. He loathed to wake her from her gentle slumber but his courtesy demanded it.

Solas brushed a strand of her hair away from her face, his hand gently stroking her cheek. Her snore barely hitched. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss upon her forehead. Alana shuffled her feet in the sheets but otherwise remained asleep.

“Alana?” Solas asked quietly.

“You are quite the heavy sleeper,” he muttered, hand gently shaking her shoulder.

Finally, after many a gentle shake and quiet words her eyes cracked open.

“Good morning,” Solas said, planting another kiss on her forehead.

“Mmm,” was the only response he received as she snuggled up against his bare chest.

“I am sorry to wake you, Alana,” Solas said while stroking her hair, “I wanted to be sure you do not have anywhere to be today.”

“Whatimeisit,” she muttered.

“Nine thirty-six.”

“I got lunch with a board member at one.”

“Board member?”

“Yeah about that damned fountain.” Alana sat up, the sheets falling away from her bare chest. She stretched, a little groan escaping her lips. Solas stayed propped on one elbow, watching her. She really did have freckles all over. He smiled.

“Who set that up? Surely you could have laid to rest the fountain debate through some letters.”

“Of course not. I’m in the running for President. I deny the board this callously I won’t get the job,” she paused, yawning, “My secretary may make me do things I detest but she’s always right.”

Solas traced her spine with one of his fingers. Lavellan’s body shivered and she turned to him, smiling.

“I know I already said it but thank you for last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Alana.”

She leaned, pressing her forehead against his. “Fine. I won’t. But I won’t forget it.”

Solas pecked her lips quickly before resting his head on his hand once more. “Neither shall I.”

“Right,” she said, hopping out of the bed, “Can I use your shower?”

“Of course.”

He watched her leave the bedroom. A sly smile played at her lips as she turned from the doorframe and into the hall. Solas heard the shower run. Alana had not closed the bathroom door. The beast wagged its tail happily and Solas jumped out of bed.

Within minutes they were both in the shower, Alana’s giggles echoing through the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short but there'll be at least one more chapter out today where the main plot gets movin!


	14. The Secretary

Solas had driven her to lunch but could not stay. He dropped her off a few blocks away from the restaurant and driven around the block to park.

“It’s nothing to do with you, specifically,” she had said as she got dressed in her room. He had driven her back so she could change. “It’s about appearing self-sufficient. They know about the accident so they shouldn’t judge me based on whether or not I’m able to drive, but they will.”

“You are very cautious,” he had noted, watching her button up a collared shirt.

“I gotta be. These board members are fucking sharks. They smell blood and you’ll be torn apart in seconds.”

Solas had smiled, thinking all the while that if the board members were sharks then Alana was a Great White.

Now he strolled among the downtown area, blending into the rivers of shoppers. All the stores were familiar to him, yet seemed new in the fall sunshine. Solas felt like he had been reborn, given a second chance. Alana’s touch had changed him. Everything was brighter, the sky bluer. He knew it was ridiculous to think that but his worldview had flipped. The thought of her smile unconsciously summoned his own.

He passed a bookstore and decided to duck in. Inside the smell of fresh paper and glue revived him. An employee looked over and waved at him. Solas headed over.

“Good afternoon, Solas.”

“Good afternoon,” he responded, eyes surveying the crowd. No one seemed to be listening in and he relaxed.

“Out to see the numbers?” the employee asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

The employee took him to the customer service desk and began typing on the computer.

“Looks like you sold one copy of _Mesopotamian Myths_ and thirty-two copies of _Faded-“_

Solas cut the man short with a, “Thank you.”

“Right,” the employee said scratching his head, “Ah, if you wouldn’t mind, sir, you come in all the time and, well, my girl’s a real big fan of _Faded For Her_ and I was hoping you might-“

“No.”

“Oh. Er, alright, then.”

As Solas walked away he made a mental note to e-mail the owner of the shop. He would not have his identity ousted by a minimum-wage college student. If their employees couldn’t keep their damn mouths shut he would have to-

“Ah, Professor Solas!”

A woman with dark hair wearing a yellow dress waved. He struggled to remember her- had she been a previous student? Before he could remember she was upon him.

“Professor, I was wondering if I might have a word with you outside?” she asked, taking him by the arm.

“I’m sorry, do I-?”

“Probably not,” the woman continued, dragging him out the doors.

They stood outside on the sidewalk, streams of shoppers weaving around them. The woman in yellow motioned for them to walk and Solas joined her, confused but interested.

“I apologize for not introducing myself sooner,” she began, “I’m Josephine Montilyet, Ms. Lavellan’s secretary.”

Name and face snapped into place in Solas’s mind.

“Ms. Montilyet, I apologize for not recognizing you.”

“Do not trouble yourself, we haven’t officially met,” she said, glancing around her, “I guessed I might’ve found you somewhere around here. I hope I did not interrupt anything important.”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’d like to ask your for your forgiveness beforehand- I am about to make some intrusive comments and I’m sorry but for the sake of Ms. Lavellan’s career I must talk to you.”

Solas raised an eyebrow, suddenly understanding why she had dragged him outside. She wanted to be away from prying ears.

Josephine turned into a small park, the playground crawling with children. She sat at a bench overlooking the jungle gym and patted the seat next to her. Solas obliged.

“I’ve been noticing your increasing interest in Ms. Lavellan,” she began, “And I need to know if it is serious.”

“How exactly does this pertain to her career?” Solas asked, completely unperturbed. He could have guessed this was coming.

“As you know by now, Ms. Lavellan is up to become the next university president. The first woman president the university has ever seen in its hundred and fifty years of service to the community. As such, she is facing resistance.”

Solas nodded, watching the children play. A girl and a boy were racing to the sandbox. The girl was winning by a long shot.

“The board even has a fall back that they are considering for the position. It’s disrespectful, but there’s nothing we can do about it. As such her reputation is extremely important. Which is why I have to ask- if there is fraternization among co-workers…”

Josephine let the sentence hang. Solas knew what she was implying. The girl tripped and fell, scraping her knee. The boy raced past her and dove into the sandbox.

“It really shouldn’t matter. We are two consenting adults,” Solas said, “But I understand. It could be misread as not taking her duty seriously.”

Josephine let out a sigh of relief next to him. Her entire body relaxed against the bench and she looked directly at him for the first time since they had sat down.

“I hold no personal grudge against you, Professor, please understand that. I am so glad to see Alana happy. But it must be kept on the down low. I cannot help but worry whenever she goes to meet you for lunch about how many unfriendly eyes may be watching. And she makes it so difficult by not playing by their rules.”

Solas smirked, “The fountain?”

“That damned fountain.”

Solas chuckled and Josephine smiled.

“I take it you are serious, then.”

“Yes. I care for Alana. “

“Though it does nothing for my nerves,” Josephine muttered, “I am glad to hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Josie so much and Im so excited to delve into this thing


	15. Dairy Queen

The car door opened and Solas shifted it into drive. Alana plopped into the passenger side and before she could close the door all the way, Solas was pulling out. The door clicked as she rushed to grab her seatbelt.

“In a hurry?” she asked. Her voice was low, exhausted.

“Not particularly,” he said, merging into traffic. He gave her a side-glance, noticing her hand running through her hair. “But I did run into your secretary, Ms. Montilyet.”

“I’m guessing that’s what the six-page text is about then,” Alana muttered. She looked out the window, hand clutched in her hair. The other hand sat balled in a fist against her thigh.

“It was that bad?” he asked her softly.

“No, it was fine. What did Josie want?”

Her tone hadn’t changed. Solas dared not enter this conversation in her current state.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” he said, driving out of the business district, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Solas.”

“Alana, I’m not a board member.”

Beside him Alana relaxed, a heavy sigh seeming to release all her pent up aggression.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to… I don’t know. Having someone to talk to. I always have to be so fucking careful. And if I do complain someone’s telling me it’s all part of the job and I shouldn’t take it so personal.” Her hands were making small flicking gestures as she talked. She continued, “It’s frustrating the way that they talk down to me. Telling me they know what’s best, they know what’s right. It’s like they see me as a child,” she threw her hands up, “A child who’s up past her bedtime! They want me out and they’re doing their damnest to make sure I slip up.”

She was panting, recovering from her exhausted anger. Her hand kept coming back up to her hair, a nervous reflex. Solas kept to back roads, not caring where they drove but minding their location. He dared not say anything, not yet.

“He asked me about the accident. Alluded to my capability of steering a college, let alone a car. Accused me of drunk driving, in so many words. All to get a reaction out of me.”

Solas’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “I hope he didn’t get what he wanted.”

A laugh escaped her throat but it was dark, sarcastic. Solas did not like the sound of that laugh. “Oh Solas, if I had given him the reaction he wanted I wouldn’t be so repressed in my anger right now.”

“Do not take this the wrong way but I’m glad.”

He felt her eyes on him and her posture softened. “Thank you, Solas,” she said, her voice slowly returning to the light, lilting tone he was so used to, “I appreciate it.”

Solas released his tense grip upon the wheel and breathed deeply through his nose. They sat in silence for a minute, drinking in the peace after the tension. Solas turned back on to a main road, still no destination in mind. Lavellan had finally calmed down. He decided it was now safe to ask.

“Where to?”

“Uhh. Hm.”

“Is there nowhere else you need to be today?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Would you like to get ice cream?”

Alana laughed, a real laugh this time. Solas smiled and directed the car towards the nearest Dairy Queen. He pulled into the parking lot. Alana reached for the door handle but Solas touched her shoulder.

“Let’s eat in here. I’ll grab the order. What would you like?”

Alana looked confused but she was too tired to handle it.

“Chocolate Extreme Blizzard.”

“Medium?”

“Yeah.”

Within minutes he was back in the car, handing her the Blizzard.

“What did you get?” she asked, dipping the bright red spoon into her ice cream.

“Mint Chocolate Chip.”

Alana ‘mm’-ed in agreement, her spoon in her mouth. Solas licked his cone, sliding into the plush seat.

After a moment she asked, “Why out here?”

“You did not read Ms. Montilyet’s text, I take it.”

“Oh right,” she muttered, spoon in her mouth, her body arching to reach at the phone in her pants pocket.

“I’ll save you some time,” he said, “She wants us to keep our relations secret.”

Alana froze and slowly resumed her previous position. She quietly began stabbing her ice cream, either looking for brownie bits or frustrated.

“And you said?”

Solas licked his ice cream, watching her carefully from his peripheral vision.

“I agreed with her.”

Alana let out a frustrated scream. Solas froze, looking at her as she curled in on herself, the grip on her ice cream fierce.

“Alana-“

“I can’t have _anything_ can I?”

Solas wrapped an arm hesitantly around her shoulders. She did not shrug him off.

“Is this position worth all this? Is it really?” she asked staring down at her chocolate. Solas stroked her hair.

“That is for you to decide,” he said finally, “But I would say yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are a great leader, Alana. The kind that would help students while maintaining an image. You’d pave the way for better education. And, perhaps it is selfish of me, but I want to see you succeed. So many others do as well. Cassandra, Varric, Josephine- they’re all rooting for you and I’m sure there are others.”

Alana didn’t move. Solas worried that he had overwhelmed her, frightened her. He opened his mouth to begin backtracking when she suddenly turned to him, her lips on his.

There was anger and frustration in that kiss, a rough lip-biting kiss that sent Solas’s beast pacing once more. Had he not been so shocked, he might’ve dropped his ice cream cone. As it was they were both frozen in that lip-lock, hands occupied with ice cream.

Alana pulled away first, out of breath. She smiled and nonchalantly nestled into the passenger’s seat, knees to her chest, ice cream in front of her.

“Thank you, Solas,” she said with ice cream in her mouth.

Solas smiled and went back to his mint chip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the actual story arch hallelujah we did it kids all exposition is pretty much over


	16. Pride & Prejudice

Alana had not grown weary of his company. When he drove her home she immediately invited him in. She dropped her purse the minute she was through the door and plopped onto the plush couch, the cushions settling. Solas closed the door behind him and stood at the doormat, waiting for some sign. Alana reached under the coffee table, coming up with a box in her lap. She looked up at him.

“Want to pick a movie? Or did you need to go home?”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “I’m just marveling how one night can change an entire attitude.”

She looked down at her box of DVDs, fingers running over the movie’s spines in a nervous gesture. “I’m sorry, if you need to go-“

“I do not need to be anywhere,” he said, moving to sit on the couch beside her, “You have just had an eventful twenty-four hours. I thought you might need a break.”

“This is my break.” She pulled out a movie, looked at it, and put it back in the box. “I’ve been pining after you for the last two weeks, Solas. After the curveballs thrown at me today I don’t want to be alone and you’re my top candidate.”

A smile pulled at Solas’s lips. “You pined after me?”

Alana’s cheeks flushed and her movie pulling increased in speed. Solas chuckled and kissed her hair. A hint of a smile played at her lips.

“Alright, if I am the top candidate, who’s number two?”

“Cassandra.”

“And why Cassandra?”

“She really believes in me. And she wouldn’t mind watching the gushy movies with me.”

“Cassandra?” Solas said, taken aback, “Gushy?”

Alana giggled. “You wouldn’t know it to look at her but she is quite the hopeless romantic. But you didn’t find out from me.”

Solas tried to imagine Cassandra reading love poetry and sighing or watching the Notebook and crying. If Varric ever found out the man would lose it.

“But you,” he said, connecting the dots, “You also like the gushy…?”

As the sentence hung unfinished, he noticed Alana was trying to remove some of the movies and hide them.

“You do. You like the gushy romances.”

“Shut up.”

“Alana that’s-“

“Don’t say a _word_.”

“Adorable?”

Alana shoved her shoulder against his and he laughed. She furiously tried to bury _Jane Eyre_ in the couch cushion. Solas reached over her and grabbed it. They both struggled, laughing, trying to wrench the movie from each other’s hands. Alana pushed her full bodyweight on top of Solas, causing Alana to fall on top of him on the couch. She gave him a quick peck on the lips before sitting up. Solas in his surprise released the movie, laughing all the while.

He stayed in that position, half-laying on the couch, one leg on the ground, the curled underneath him. Alana pushed back her hair, face still hot. He watched as she continued to pull out movies and set them aside, to hide under the cushions later no doubt.

“What’s your favorite movie, then? Of the romantic variety?” he asked.

Alana looked at the pile and shrugged. “None of them are perfect. My favorite romance hasn’t been made into a movie yet. I’d say the closest to perfect is _Pride & Prejudice_.”

“Did you want to watch it?”

Alana shook her head, face still flushed. “No, I won’t make you sit through a romance, Solas, I know they are not by far the most interesting-“

“Alana.”

She looked at him, reclining on the couch. He smiled at her and watched her face relax, cheeks still pink.

“Do you want to watch it?”

“A little.”

Solas sat up, leaning close to her. He brushed against her shoulder, fingers reaching out to graze the movie titles. Her breath tickled his cheek. His fingers plucked out the movie, all the while watching her fingers twitch as she restrained herself from grabbing it. The electric tension in the air between them was back. Solas froze, letting the sparks between them tingle against his skin. He then broke it by standing to put the movie into the DVD player. Waiting would make the eventual second tryst better.

As the DVD slipped into the machine he attempted to normalize the mood by asking, “So if this isn’t the best romance, what is?”

She laughed nervously from behind him, “If I told you, you might call me a bandwagoner.”

Solas returned to her side at the couch as the DVD loaded. “Oh it can’t be that bad.”

Alana sighed, “ _Faded for Her.”_

Solas froze.

“They haven’t made it a movie yet but I’m sure it’s eventual,” she continued, oblivious to his distress as the title screen appeared on the television in front of them, “I mean it was a #1 Bestseller for like a month. The hype was ridiculous.”

He struggled to regain his composure and he was thankful for the DVD remote taking her attention. In an attempt to seem nonchalant he tried to contribute.

“If the hype was ridiculous why did you like it?”

“Well, this is going to sound super hipster but it only climbed to the top of the ranks when it was re-discovered. Most people don’t realize it’s been out for nearly ten years. It only got popular this past year. I’ve had three different copies for the past five years.”

“You liked it before it was cool,” he tried to joke. She laughed and he did his best to smile naturally.

Much to his relief the movie began and Alana put down the remote. She curled up against his chest. As Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy began their delicate dance of courtship, Solas licked his lips. Their conversation had left a bad taste in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally watch 2005 Pride & Prejudice like once a year and no one can stop me, best version, if you disagree fight me irl  
> Sorry for shady uploading schedule, college is hard. Thanks for sticking with me!


	17. The Beast

It was Sunday and Solas stood in his living room alone. The house felt empty, deserted without her. The kitchen table sat in the middle of the living room, the remains of the candles all over the white tablecloth. In the kitchen dishes were piled high in the sink, remnants of the dinner two nights ago. He could still smell her perfume, could almost see her sitting in the chair, drinking a beer and smiling up at him.

Solas dropped his coat on the ground. As if in a trance, he walked to his study, opening the door to his study. He stood at the threshold, looking at the carpet. He could see her spinning, awed by his paintings, his bookcases, him. Her clothes slipping, her pink face, her warmth. The roar of the beast.

The buttons on his shirt hastily came undone with the help of his steady fingers. The shirt puddled on the ground as its owner entered the study, hands grasping blank canvas.

There was always ready-to-use canvas for these situations. Solas would be struck with the need to paint and he would have no time to fill the bathtub to soak paper and stretch it over his many wood frames. The thought of the bathtub triggered images of Alana’s naked body, the slick way his hands ran over her dripping breasts, the hot water running down their faces and between their lips. The curves of her body, the warmth-

Watercolor it was.

Solas grabbed the pallet, the spray bottle, a mug of water, a few rags. His brush hesitated over the pallet, her face blinding his mind’s eye from the painting screaming to be released. The beast rumbled in his gut. Her face vanished and the images clicked into place.

Strokes of red. Black.

They had finished the movie the day before with that same sparkling tension between them as Mr. Darcy kissed Jane’s hands, arms, mouth muttering, “Mrs. Darcy.” Not much later Solas’s mouth had been speaking words of lust and fear into Alana’s skin. How she had moaned as he mouthed silent apologies onto her body. Guilt fueled his passions, as if satisfying her sexually would make up for the lies he had yet to tell.

Her favorite book. Her favorite author. He could never tell her without also telling her about his intentions, his hatred of what he had created. As he squeezed her breasts all he could think of was the e-mail sitting unread in his inbox from his publisher, the title “Movie Rights”.

Paint took form on the canvas much as his frustrations had taken form in his lust for Alana. The more he cared, the more he feared the truth coming to light. It clawed its way up his throat as he orgasmed, it sat undigested in his stomach as he lay in her bed, stroking her hair. The longer he didn’t tell her the worse it would be if he did. He hadn’t had to lie yet. The thought of the imminent lies to be told made her board members seem less like sharks and more like sardines.

The beast took form on the canvas, the dishonesty and lust creating a monster out of watercolors. A woman stood below the hulking body of the black beast, skin bright against the dark shadows of the beast’s fur. The monster’s multiple eyes stared down at the bright woman, hungry.

He switched colors. As he went to cover his brush once more, he noticed his copy of _Faded for Her_ on the ground. Impulse took over. Solas ran towards it and kicked it. It slid under his desk, hitting the wall on the other side. He continued painting, brush strokes harsher, colors bolder.

He painted non-stop, papers ungraded in his pack, food-encrusted dishes gathering insects, his clothes strewn across the ground or covered in small specks of paint. As the moon began to rise, he stepped away from his canvas covered in the vomit of his guilt.

His bed felt cold that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lust and guilt weigh similarly on the soul.


	18. Friends

He left for work the next morning without so much as a glance towards his study. The guilt he had felt last night had manifested itself on the canvas and there it would stay. If he let it plague him he would not be able to function.

As lunch approached he began wondering what might happen. Would they still go out? Or would Josephine stop them, citing the ever-present risk of discovery. A buzz of his phone in his suit pocket answered that for him.

_Hey Josie says we can go out if theres a group. In? If not, its cool._

Solas frowned but he knew that if they didn’t go out he wouldn’t see her much at all during the week.

 _Who would be going?_ He texted.

A few minutes later, _Josie Cassandra Varric._

_The Deli?_

_Duh :)_

_I’m in. Am I still picking you up?_

_Josies driving._

Solas rolled his shoulders. It wasn’t great but at least he would get to see her. After yesterday he needed to see her face and set his mind at ease.

When he arrived at the Deli the four of them already had a table. Alana began raising her arm in greeting but Josephine caught her arm, lowering it, and raising her own.

“Professor! Over here!” Josephine called, Alana rolling her eyes beside her.

“Hey, look who it is!” Varric said, turning to face him, “Good Samaritan!”

Solas gave a polite smile and pulled up a chair across from Alana. They exchanged a knowing stare before being interrupted by Josephine.

“What a coincidence, Professor! We were just discussing why no one had invited you to lunch.”

Varric snorted into his drink and Alana whispered angrily, “Josie, no one is even here, why are you being so-“

“My phone has been off,” Solas said, “I’m sure if it had been on I would have a text from Varric.”

“No doubt,” the English professor smirked.

Alana rolled her eyes, slumping in her seat, defeated. Solas moved his leg under the table to touch hers. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He smiled and she relaxed. Josephine, who had watched this exchange, looked at Solas, grateful. He nodded at her and conversation began flowing naturally.

Their food arrived shortly after Varric’s slightly illegal story ended. Cassandra had had her mouth open, looking disgusted at the man when the server set her food down before her. Her jaw shut, muscles clenching as she held her tongue. Silence fell over the table as they dove into their food.

“So, I heard Our Lady President had a very important meeting with a board member this weekend,” Varric mentioned, raising an eyebrow.

Josephine looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

Alana answered, “That I did. About the fountain.”

“And?”

“It was enlightening.”

Josephine nearly fainted in relief. Solas smiled.

“Alana,” Cassandra began, “Would more support from the staff help decision making in the future?”

Alana chewed thoughtfully before looking at Josephine. Josephine’s body was tense once more. Solas wondered how the woman had survived this long without an ulcer.

“Yes,” the secretary said carefully, “It may smooth over any potential disagreements that may arise. Why do you ask, Sheriff?”

“I just feel that if we have an active support system for Ms. Lavellan, it would make things easier on you and her. We could reach out to different departments, invite the heads to lunch much like we do here. “

“I don’t think formal invitations would be the wisest,” Alana said through a mouthful of food.

“No, you don’t need supporters,” Varric interjected, “You need _friends_.”

Alana looked at him.

“Well, not to say you don’t have friends, just more friends in the school.”

The implications dawned on the party.

“Problem,” Alana said, “I can’t very well just talk to a professor and decide they’re my friend.”

“We all have friends in different places. I, for instance, have been helping a first year professor in the Psychology department. I’d consider him my friend. I bring him to lunch, we all get to know each other.”

“Then he knows someone,” Solas says, continuing Varric’s thought, “And we bring _them_ to lunch…”

“Exactly,” Varric says, leaning back, “Samaritan gets it.”

“And then if the board bothers-“ Josephine shot Cassandra a warning glance, “Er, needs anything else from Alana, she has support.”

Josephine sighed, rubbing her forehead. Varric and Cassandra stared at her, looking for approval. Finally Josephine broke.

“ _Yes,_ alright, yes, go ahead. It’s not a bad idea if done right.”

Varric laughed. Cassandra smiled at Alana and Alana shook her head, giggling. Solas watched the whole affair in amusement. Friends. It wasn’t a terrible idea.

Alana looked at him, heat in her eyes, a coy smile. “Solas, can I count you among my friends?”

“Of course, my lady.”

Her foot rubbed up the side of his calf and he maintained his neutral façade. The way she looked at him he could forget the damned book and that god-forsaken e-mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, I've had every member of the Inquisition's job description in the college figured out since before I started writing. Cuz I'm a sucker for AUs.


	19. Dreams

Solas sat in his study, his painting of the beast he had painted turned away from him. He loathed looking at it. Especially now as he read his e-mail.

_Solas,_

_For Christ’s sake, I know you hate the book but we have 3 different studios asking for the rights. And if they had just asked once I wouldn’t have even let you know but they’ve all been bothering me for_ weeks. _I know they’ll butcher it, I know it was a “critique of historical romances” and not an actual romance but Jesus H. Christ man they’re talking 6 digits._

_This is already the second e-mail I’ve sent but are you really going to pass this up? I know you’re not hurting for money by any means but is your pride worth 6 digits?_

_Think about it._

_-Dwyer_

He put his head in his hands. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. They could give him a hundred thousand dollars, the movie would be a hit, and maybe then Terry Wolfe would finally fade into obscurity and Solas could live well for quite some time. Buy a new house, or a new car. And Alana-

Would go see the movie like every other disillusioned woman infatuated with the book.

The thought made him sick. She was so intelligent, so independent, how could she not see the sarcasm laced into the book? How could no one have figured it out by now, when it was originally marketed that way? She was right of course. Long after it was released was it rediscovered and made a sensation. The original purpose was lost, new covers losing the original description on the back after much pushing by his publisher.

“Who cares why they’re reading it,” he had said to Solas, “But they are and it’s selling. Are you really going to halt the profits by publically announcing that it’s a fraud?”

Of course he hadn’t. That would have meant breaking the pseudonym, the pseudonym that he would happily hide under for the rest of his life if he could help it. But now, with the movie rights…

He couldn’t decide this right then. It was too heavy of a decision, one that was already being influenced by his feelings for Alana.

Solas closed his e-mail and brought out student papers out of his pack. He didn’t grade them over the weekend so it was time to play catch-up.

He worked late into the night, a cup of hot chocolate beside him. The red pen in his hand would flick across the page as he checked for factual or grammatical errors, completely engrossed in his work. The students this semester were particularly wordy, stretching sentences far longer than necessary. However, they sentences were rarely bullshit. The kids were learning far more than he had in quite some time.

Solas looked over to see his phone lit up. The clock proclaimed 12:04. A text. He stretched, arms above his head before checking it. Only half the papers were done and he would soon be forced to bed.

Solas relaxed his arms as he received a second text message. It was still 12:04. A heavy feeling erupted in his chest. Someone really needed his attention.

He unlocked his phone to two new texts from Alana:

_help_

_solas_

His heart was sinking, fearful as he hit the call button on his phone. With each ring on his end his heart beat faster. A click signaled the phone had been answered but all he could hear was distant breathing. He stood, grabbing his keys.

“Alana?”

“Alana, what’s wrong? Are you in danger?”

Her voice sounded distant, perhaps on speaker phone. “No.”

Solas relaxed slightly, his car keys slipping into his pocket. He sat back down in his desk chair.

“What’s wrong, Alana?”

She tried saying something but her sobs made her incomprehensible. Solas waited patiently, the sound of her sorrow burrowing deep in his chest. Slowly, her sobs turned to hiccups. There was a subtle difference in tone in the call and he realized she had turned off speakerphone. The hitches in her breath were more noticeable, but quiet.

“Solas?” she finally managed quietly.

“Yes, Alana?”

“I’m sorry,” she started, “I probably scared you, I-“ a fresh sob escaped her mouth but it sounded muffled, like she had put a hand over her mouth.

“It’s ok, Alana. What’s wrong? How can I help?”

“I just,” she took a deep, shaking breath, “I’ve been having dreams. About the crash.”

A chill shot down Solas’s spine.

“I’ve had them ever since I came home from the hospital. Not every night, but a lot of nights.”

Solas’s body ached. “They are always this bad?”

“Yes.”

He felt helpless. She was crying, terrified only a few miles away and yet he couldn’t do anything directly.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asked, desperate for a way to help.

“No,” she said, “I’ll be ok. I just…” She sighed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitated, her shaky breath all he could hear. The sound was tearing him apart.

“I see the car coming. It doesn’t stop, just drives right into me. The airbag knocks me back but I don’t black out like I did.”

Solas sees the crash in his head, the terrible scraping of metal.

“I see the fire in the hood start but my body is pinned. I can’t get at the seatbelt. The fire gets hotter and hotter and soon I can’t touch the car door without the metal burning me,” her voice hitches, breaks.

“Alana-“

“It gets hotter and hotter and I see you, Varric, Cassandra, a whole squad of police and firefighters just standing back from the car. Each time someone different says it, but someone always says, ‘It’s too late.’”

Solas has laid his head on his desk, eyes closed. Had he not seen the crash, had someone else been witness would she be telling this story right now? He remembered the blood dripping from her head, the heat coming from the hood-

“I usually wake up screaming once the fire actually spreads to the interior.”

They are both silent, the phone line crackling softly in the silence.

“I’m sorry, Alana. I wish there was something-“

“No,” she says, “Don’t be sorry. Thanks to you these are just dreams. I just… I just wanted to hear your voice. Tell me what you were doing when I called.”

Solas lifts his head and looks at the mess on his table. “I was grading papers. I neglected them this weekend. I have maybe half of them done.”

“What are the papers about?”

“Just two page responses to one civilization described in the first chapter.”

“How are they doing?”

“I’ve only had two grades below a C so far.”

“That’s good.”

Her voice is normalizing along with her breathing. Solas relaxes in increments as she calms.

“Thank you, Solas.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” he asks, “If you need anything-“

“You’ve already given me everything I need,” she says and he can almost hear her soft smile, “Thank you for talking to me. I hope I didn’t worry you too bad.”

“Just a minor stroke, nothing serious.”

She laughs lightly. “Goodnight, Solas.”

“Goodnight, Alana.”

The phone clicks and Solas collapses back into his chair. No more papers were getting graded tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be two chapters but the first was just too short   
> Dreams where you get stuck in cars are literally the worst.


	20. Cole

The next day Solas was jittery, waiting for lunch to arrive. He needed to see her, needed to see that she was alright. Students no doubt noticed his distracted state, let alone the dark circles that had taken up residence under his eyes. When his last class before lunch rolled around he let them go five minutes early.

Solas nearly ran into the Deli, forgetting for a moment that they would not be alone. To his disappointment, the group had not even arrived yet. He ordered his sandwich and added on her favorite sandwich. He chose a spot near the window and waited.

Soon enough, there she was, Cassandra holding her hand. Solas did not see the dark circles or any other marks of stress but even as she smiled, Cassandra did not shift her worried expression.

They entered and Solas stood. Alana stopped and looked at Josephine. The secretary looked about for a moment and then nodded hesitantly. Alana turned back to him, smiling, and walked up to hug him. Her arms encircled his body and he rested his chin on her head, stroking her hair with one hand.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

“I’m fine, Solas, just tired.”

She released her grip on him reluctantly after Josephine cleared her throat. Solas looked down at her, searching her eyes for the same exhaustion that plagued him. Realization dawned on him as he failed to find it. She wore makeup everyday to combat the dark circles that no doubt hung beneath her eyes. He kissed her forehead quickly before they all sat.

“What would you like today, Alana?” Cassandra asked, standing to get the sandwiches.

“I’ve already taken care of hers,” Solas answered. Alana looked at him from across the table, grateful.

“Very well,” the Sheriff said, a faint flicker of a rare smile gracing her lips.

There was no time to speak as Varric entered a moment later, a tall, lanky twenty-some year old on his heels.

“Good afternoon, Madame President,” Varric called, “May I introduce my good friend, a teacher of PSYCH 101, Cole?”

Alana stood, a hand outreached, “A pleasure to meet you, Cole.”

Cole took her hand, letting her shake it before saying, “You’re so tired.”

The whole party froze, Alana’s eyes wide. Varric laughed and pat the newcomer on the back.

“Kid’s observant to a fault, sometimes, President. But he means well,” he explained.

Alana nodded and sat down. Cole sat beside Varric. Solas eyed the young man warily.

“You have a lot of work,” Cole said, still looking at Alana, “But you’re happy so the tired doesn’t matter so much.”

“I am happy,” Alana said, smiling at Cole, “And I love my job here so being tired is worth it.”

Cole nodded and the party relaxed some. He certainly didn’t seem to have any malintent. Varric left to order sandwiches for him and Cole.

Conversation was cautious, slow. Cole was much more content with observing than with contributing they found. When the food came lips became looser and some forgot that Cole was there. Solas eyed the man carefully, though, wondering why Varric had chosen him. He was not alone in watching Cole- Alana also would glance at him, watching for a reaction.

Varric was telling a story, per usual, when Cole finally spoke up for the second time.

“So the guy gets down on one knee in front of the whole concert, who knows how much he paid the band to do this, and proposes straight out. The girl was so surprised she fainted!” Varric concluded, laughing.

“There’s no way that happened,” Cassandra protested, “The money involved alone is preposterous, not to mention if she was led to the stage the girl must have been prepared in some way for a shock.”

“Believe what you will, Sheriff,” Varric said.

“You don’t want it to happen like that,” Cole said, looking at Cassandra, “She shouldn’t have fainted.”

Cassandra looked at the young man carefully before responding with a slow, “Yes.”

“It’s not perfect like in your movies,” Cole concluded.

Cassandra’s face flushed and she looked at Alana. Alana had her hand over her mouth, suppressing giggles. Varric alternated between looking at all three of them, confused. Solas maintained a neutral expression, somewhat unnerved by the accuracy of Cole’s guesswork.

Cassandra gathered up her food, mumbling something about needing to get back to the station for something urgent. The party said a confused goodbye, Alana silently losing her cool across from Solas. The giggles had turned into full-fledged silent laughter. She excused herself to the bathroom.

Sitting with Varric, Josephine, and Cole, Solas did his best to pretend that none of that had happened. Cole seemed unperturbed, eating his sandwich.

Alana returned, face red, saying, “Well, since Cassandra left Josie and I need a ride back to the administrative building.”

“I’d be happy to give you two a lift,” Solas offered. Both ladies nodded.

“Is no one going to explain what just happened here?” Varric finally burst.

“Cassandra likes romance movies,” Cole said.

This time Alana lost it unapologetically. Josephine giggled beside her and Solas did his best to keep his laughter in. A few breathy laughs escaped against his will as he watched Varric’s face relax in disbelief.

When they had all calmed down, Alana extended a lunch invitation to Cole indefinitely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Cole so much and we needed a happy chapter


	21. Diamonds

It was Cole’s third day joining them for lunch when it happened.

Cassandra now exclusively sat next to Alana, always watching Cole with tight lips. Varric had yet to tease the Sheriff yet about the discovery, much to Solas’s surprise. The conversation that Thursday lulled. They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally looking around or out the window. Solas would glance up and see Alana staring out the window, sandwich almost completely forgotten on her plate. The way the afternoon light refracted through the grimy glass made a shimmering effect across her skin. Alana glowed.

“Why do you hide it?”

Everyone looked at Cole. Solas immediately knew something was about to go wrong but he held his tongue. It was probably already too late.

“Hide what, Cole?” Alana asked.

“You and Solas.”

Josephine hurriedly poured on the honey, “Cole, Ms. Lavellan is single, has been for some time! And if she was seeing someone it certainly wouldn’t be a fellow employee.”

Cole looked at Josephine for only a moment before turning back to Alana. “He looks at you when you don’t pay attention. His eyes go soft.”

Alana was wide-eyed, looking over at Solas. Her mouth was parted and Solas did his best to shrug Cole’s keen observation off. Blushing and fidgeting here would not change the outcome. He instead tried to smile, the result being an awkward half-smile.

Josephine was livid.

“Who told you?” she inquired. Her knuckles were white from grabbing the table. She had barely blinked since Cole had first spoke.

“No one. They told me with their actions,” Cole said.

“Ruffles,” Varric said soothingly, “I told you he’s observant. There’s no need to be upset. If we are all friends here it was going to come to light eventually.”

Josephine gritted her teeth, whispering back to Varric but Solas was suddenly preoccupied with Cole speaking directly to him for the first time.

“She’s not going to break, you know. She is diamond, not broken glass.”

Cassandra stood proclaiming, “I can’t take this. This is too strange for me.” Alana grabbed her arm and was trying to pull her back into her seat.

Cole kept staring at Solas, waiting for a response. Solas licked his lips, unsure of how to respond to such a deep insight. The angry whispering between Varric and Josephine stopped. Josephine looked only slightly more relaxed than before but she was no longer spitting fire.

“Cole,” Varric said, claiming the young man’s attention. Solas relaxed as Cole’s eyes averted from his. “They hide it because they have to.”

Cole shook his head, looking to Alana instead, “Why?”

Alana faltered, but only for a moment. “Because some people would be unhappy about it. I’m trying to secure a better job for myself and I can’t have any of my feelings risk ruining that.”

Cole nodded slowly and returned to his sandwich. The entire party seemed to let out a sigh of relief in unison.

As lunch came to a close, Solas walked Alana back to Josephine’s car.

“Well, that was eventful, to say the least.”

Alana laughed and agreed, “Yes, that was certainly something, alright.”

Solas measured the distance between them and the rest of the party before saying, “How have you been sleeping?”

“Fine, since then.”

“You know you can always call me.”

“I know.” She looked up at him, smiling. “So what’s the plan for this weekend?”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that. I’m open to suggestions.”

Alana looked behind her before running a finger up his thigh. Solas shivered.

“Suggestion noted,” he choked out. Alana giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's short but I knew I had to get it out while it was still in my head. I've got like 20 minutes to get ready to go to class lol.
> 
> So I don't want to sound like a self-promoting jerkface, promise, but I know with my shoddy uploading schedule some people are left waiting during the week. My tumblr is iwarnedyouabouthosestairsbro.tumblr and the nice thing about you having that is that I'm always open to speaking with anyone or answering questions about the fanfic/au and I also take prompts occasionally! Not just Solavellan either! So don't feel pressured to follow me or anything, I just wanted to provide that option for anyone... also I'd LOVE to talk to you guys outside of comments!! 
> 
> Again no pressure, everyone have a nice week! :)


	22. New Student

Friday’s lunch was canceled. The group text he had received told him that Cassandra had important business and that Josephine was ill. Alana texted him privately, though, to tell him that Josephine’s nerves needed a break after yesterday.

His lectures dragged on. As the students poured in for his last class of the evening, he checked his phone. Solas had not received any texts from Alana. He frowned at his phone, willing a text about tonight to appear. When the clock struck six he placed the phone in his desk and looked over the students settling into the rows of desks in the hall. A month into class and there were already fewer students showing up for each class. Those that did strayed towards the back. He did his best to not let it bother him- those students were paying his salary whether they showed up and paid attention or not. The back of his mind itched, however, with the thought of letting those students down.

The few in the front rows sat at attention, pencils and pens hovering over notebooks, ready to learn. Those front rows were what kept him teaching. As the shuffling and whispers finally dropped volume, he stared amongst the class, hands behind his back, ready to speak.

“As you all know, your short responses are due today. Please pass them to the front,” he announced.

Shuffling papers, students in the back standing to walk down to the middle rows, several papers in hand. As the papers accumulated in the front row students, one young man took the responsibility of walking up to Solas with all the papers. Solas took them, muttering a thank you. The young man’s hands were shaking, whether from some sort of exertion before class or from his nervousness in Solas’s presence. Either way, Solas smiled at him, reassuring him, and the student smiled back before returning to his seat.

When all had quieted he began again, “Now that we’ve looked quickly at some more well-known ancient civilizations that originated in Europe, we’ll be switching our focus to-“

The lecture hall door opened. Solas frowned in frustration. Class had been in session for five minutes now and-

There stood Alana, smiling, gazing over the lecture hall.

“Class,” Solas transitioned as smoothly as possible, “It seems we have Vice President Lavellan joining us today. Please make her feel welcome.” He turned towards Alana saying, “Ms. Lavellan, is there something you needed or wanted to say?”

Alana beamed at him, looking back at the class.

“Hi, everyone! I’m making the rounds on different classrooms, getting a feel for what you guys do every day. I’ll be sitting in and you’re all welcome to voice any concerns or just talk to me after class.”

The students in the front row jittered in their seats, alight with excitement with the thought of meeting a person in the highest current power in the university. Even the students in the back straightened their backs, taking out notebooks and writing utensils. Solas smiled. Alana would have to drop in more often.

She sat in a corner desk in the front row, looking at him. “Please, proceed Professor.”

Her gaze was hot, pointed, her smile soft. Solas did his best to focus.

“As I was saying,” he projected, trying his best to not look at her, “We’ll be shifting our focus to Africa. Today we’ll be learning about Wagadugu, more commonly known as Ghana.” Pencils were scratching not just in the front rows, but echoing across the entire room. “Wagadugu was one of the richest civilizations in Africa between the ninth and eleventh century. Tales are told of the dogs in the kingdom wearing gold collars and horses being tethered with silk…”

He had told the same lecture twice before this week already, and every year before that. The names and places rolled off his tongue with ease, the words familiar in his mouth. The added pressure of Alana watching him, however, made his voice just a little too loud, a little too fast. As he flicked through Powerpoint slides, his thumb trembled.

Every time he stole a glance at Alana she had not moved. She stared intently at him, occasionally flicking her eyes toward the Powerpoint. The interested smile never left her face. His confidence solidified slowly with every approving glance, every soft smile.

Solas glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until the lecture was over and he had covered nearly everything. Some students had lost interest and were stealing glances at Alana.

“I think we will end it there for today,” he said, “So that if you have some questions for Ms. Lavellan, now would be the time.”

Chairs and desks squeaked and scraped as students stood, eager. Most all of the students in the back slunk out, not wanting to offend but unwilling to meet such a high authority. The front rows crowded around Alana’s desk. He could hear her ask them to sit down beside her. Solas smiled as the students looked at each other in amazement. She knew how to gain the student’s trust and respect.

He sat organizing his desk as she talked to the students. With the multitude of voices and laughter he couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. Some voiced concerns of tuition or certain programs on the verge of extinction. Others asked if she would soon be President or if someone else was stepping up. All of her answers sounded measured and light-hearted.

His desk packed up and the clock reading five past class end, the students dispersed. Alana stood from the desk, grinning.

“Your students really like you.”

“Really? I’m surprised,” he admitted, “I cannot imagine the class is much fun.”

They were walking out the lecture hall, Solas with his pack over his shoulder, Alana with a briefcase.

“No, they adore you. They say you’re very easy to listen to and are super willing to help them learn. I have to agree with them after that lecture.”

Solas turned to her, skeptical. “So, making the rounds? See what they do every day?”

Alana laughed. “I checked with Josie first. I sat in on Varric’s class too.”

“I am positive that was interesting.”

“You have no idea.”

They both chuckled as they entered the cool night air. The early October air was beginning to bring with it a chill. A few scattered leaves twitched in the cool breeze. Very few trees were blossoming with color yet. It would no doubt happen soon enough.

“I nearly thought we weren’t meeting at all today,” he mentioned.

“I’m not allowed to text in class, Professor. Mr. Tethras would have no doubt made an example of me.”

“You’re joking.”

“Completely serious. He’d say it humanizes me or something.”

“Dinner?”

“Where?”

“Wherever you like.”

“Ugh, don’t do that to me. I make decisions for a living. Let me be guided.”

“Very well. I know a good pasta place in the town over.”

“Sounds great.”

Solas’s body relaxed as she wrapped her hand in his. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I love these two nerds.  
> Also Wagadugu is real, just spelled Ouagadougou, but in most Western countries it's written Wagadugu.


	23. Freckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Explicit content in this chapter

He kissed each of her fingers gently, his lips lingering on her salty skin. His thumb pressed in the center of her palm, keeping her fingers stretched apart in the darkness. Out of the corner he saw her naked body, highlighted by the moonlight coming through her bedroom window.

At dinner her hand had passed over the table too quickly, overturning the saltshaker. In one nonchalant motion she had picked up a pinch of salt and threw it over her shoulder. His mouth had twisted in a frown as she righted the saltshaker.

“You’re superstitious then?” he had asked.

Alana’s face had blanked, concentrated before her smile had returned and she laughed, “Oh no! Sorry, habit. Something my grandfather used to do.”

“So you picked it up from him?”

“Actually, no,” she had confessed, “I started doing it after he died. A little part of him to remember when he was gone.”

He had felt guilty for jumping to conclusions afterwards. Now, as he took each of her fingers in his lips he tasted the salt that had lingered under her nails with relish.

His kissed her thumb one last time before allowing her hand to relax, fall to his chest. He sat above her, watching her eyes. She stared at him, eyes bright with lust in the darkness. Solas could not wait any longer.

He noticed how her lips still tasted lightly of marinara sauce as he ran his tongue across her teeth.

“So you take me to a pasta place and order a salad?” she had joked.

“The portions here are huge. Neither of us could finish our plates.”

She had leaned in closer, her breasts resting against her crossed arms. Solas had done his best to keep eye contact.

“Wanna bet?” she whispered.

He had smiled. “Not particularly.”

She had retreated, relaxing back into her chair. “Me neither.”

“I was hoping we could share,” he had admitted and her face had lit up.

Currently her face was lit with pleasure as his hands wandered across her body. Her body responded, jumping with each sensual touch. Solas guided her body until she was on her stomach and he straddled her, bending to suckle her earlobe. Alana moaned, wiggling. He teased her, the tip rubbing against her entrance. He bit her neck gently.

“Solas,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Yes, Alana?”

“Please.”

The beast roared in celebration and Solas lost his control. He was inside her, thrusting. Alana squeaked with each thrust, clutching the edge of the bed. Solas was already close and that was unacceptable. He retreated and Alana moaned. He pushed himself off the bed. Solas stood, looking at Alana’s back. She turned to look at him as he gently grabbed her ankles. A flash of understanding crossed her face and she wiggled to help as he pulled her feet down on to the floor.

Alana’s top half remained laying on the bed and Solas stood behind her, teasing her once more, one hand curled in her hair. He entered again, his hand clenching, pulling her hair back.

One of his hands clutched at her waist and he snaked it down to her clit, a cry of pleasure escaping her marinara-stained lips.

They had laughed when the dishes arrived at their table, Alana amazed by the very sight of such a large plate of raviolis. Solas had begun divvying up their food on bread plates, Alana’s hands tenting around the bridge of her nose. She had giggled on and off throughout dinner. Her flushed face and soft giggles had filled Solas’s chest, adoration replacing his lust.

God, she was beautiful.

Even now, her back arched, sweat trickling down her back, she was a goddess. Solas arched his back in ecstasy. They were both so close. So close.

The cold fall wind howled outside. Their bodies shook, entering that blank state of pure feeling, their simultaneous orgasm rocketing them into nothingness.

Solas exited and laid beside her. They both panted, riding the aftershocks of their desire on Alana’s blue comforter. He turned his head to face her. She looked at him, her expression exhausted but content. Sweat slicked her cheeks, reflecting the faint light filtering through the window. He slowly moved his hand to her cheek, caressing the side of her face gently. Alana moved one of her own hands to cover his and closed her eyes.

Solas rolled over, touching his forehead to hers. They wrapped their bodies together in a warm embrace as he showered her face, neck, and shoulders in kisses. One for every freckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write sex scenes I literally just kind of sit at my computer blushing and hoping it doesn't sound too terrible


	24. Alone

 

When Solas woke it was still dark. The bed beside him was empty and as his adjusted to the darkness he noticed a shadow pass out the door. He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes. A door down the hall closed and he heard running water.

Solas pulled back the comforter, the chill of night sending goosebumps across his naked skin. He rolled off the bed, grabbing his pants. Head still muffled with sleep, he nearly fell when putting his legs into the pants. After a failed attempt at buttoning the pants, he settled with zipping them as best he could before leaving the room.

Darkness muffled all the details of the wood paneled hallway. One single light spilled out from under the bathroom door. He heard the shower running.

Solas reached into his pocket and found his watch. It was 3:56 in the morning.

He knocked softly. “Alana?”

No response. He thought he could hear some quiet noise but the running water splashing against the plastic curtain and the walls of the tub drowned it out.

“Alana,” he said, testing the doorknob. Unlocked. “Alana, can I come in?”

Still no response. He put his ear against the door and heard a soft sob.

Solas opened the door slowly, waiting for any sound of protest. When the opening in the door was large enough for him to step through he entered, hesitant. Something was wrong. The shower curtain was pulled, blocking his view of her. Her quiet cries echoed off the tile walls.

“Alana.” His hand wavered in front of the shower curtain, unwilling to pull it back. “Let me help, sweetheart.”

Her cries quieted to whimpers. Solas decided that was the best go-ahead he was going to get. His hand threw back the shower curtain in the same fashion that he ripped off a bandage. Quick so as to let the pain end.

Alana sat naked under the running water, knees pushed up against her breasts, arms encircling her legs. Her head rested against her knees, drenched hair dripping down her neck. Watery sobs mingled with the water draining behind her.

Solas knelt at the side of the tub, one cautious hand out to touch the back of her head. She tilted her head slightly, to peek out at him from the gap between her knees and her breasts. Her eyes and cheeks were red.

“The dream changed,” she said, her voice cracking into higher registers.

Solas nodded and removed his hand, standing. Alana raised her head to look at him. Without a second thought for his pants, Solas climbed into the shower and sat behind her, his legs on either side of her, his arms embracing her gently. He laid his head on the smooth skin of her back.

“I’ll be here if you want to talk,” he offered.

Alana’s shoulders relaxed and her head disappeared back into her knees. Sobs wracked her body once more. Solas was content to wait in the warm rain of the shower.

Her muffled voice finally managed, “You tried to save me this time.”

Solas waited, giving her arms a soft squeeze.

“The door wouldn’t open. You were screaming for someone to help. Then Cole was in the passenger seat,” her voice hitched. She waited until she had control again before finishing, “He looked at me and said ‘He can open the door but he doesn’t know how.’ I looked back at you and you had burned your hand. Then the flames came inside and we were both screaming.”

Her voice had cracked on the last word. Fresh sobs sent shudders through her body. Solas kissed up and down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

They sat that way for some time, letting the water wash away her sorrows.

Her cries eased up in increments, eventually nothing more than hiccups. Her head lifted just as slowly. Solas relaxed his embrace, using one hand to lightly comb out the tangles in her soaked hair.

A laugh choked out of her sore throat. Solas tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

“Your pants. I’m sorry.”

Solas resumed his tender hair combing. “Don’t be. I don’t mind. They’ll dry.”

“No, I mean…” She paused. “I mean, I’m sorry I worried you. I just didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Alana, promise me something.”

She turned to look back at him and he dropped his hand from her hair.

“Promise me that if you have these dreams you’ll wake me up,” he reached up to push a stray clump of hair from her face, “Even if you have to call me on a weeknight.”

“Solas-“

“Promise.”

She shifted her eyes, looking at the water at the bottom of the tub. “Okay. I promise.”

He put a hand under her chin. She looked at him, red eyes wide, cheeks pink.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again and she turned her entire body towards his. Alana wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest. Her tears now were silent. Solas stroked her hair, one hand rubbing her back.

“Thank you, Solas,” she choked out.

Solas kissed the top of her head. All the while three words clawed up his throat, his teeth the only barrier between the sounds and the air. He refused to say it yet, refused to say it with a guilty conscious.

The unsaid confession strangled him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter destroyed me.


	25. Benefits

Solas woke to her warmth surrounding him. Bright sunlight leaked through the blinds and he reached for the cord to shut them. Alana lay tucked under his arm, head resting on his chest. One of her arms sprawled across his waist, fingers relaxed. Across the room his pants sat drying on the back of a chair. She had turned on a fan to help the process. His watch sat in a bowl of rice on the desk. Solas had a feeling it was lost but he didn’t care.

His motions shuffled her position. Alana’s eyebrows furrowed as she slowly came out of her sleep. Solas kissed her hair, hand rubbing her arm. Alana groaned, eyes crusty from the tears spilt in the early hours of the morning.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice gentle.

“You’re still here.” A small smile began creeping along her face.

“Should I not be?”

She shook her head, hair bouncing in its bedhead. Solas smiled as she said, “No, you should be. I’m glad you are.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead and threw back the sheets to stand.

Alana sat up, rubbing her eyes to break up the eye crust. Solas walked over to check his pants.

He looked over her shoulder as she observed, “You’ve got a nice butt.”

She giggled and Solas did his best not to blush and put on his pants. In truth he was just happy to see her smiling again.

“Solas?”

He turned to his ragged woman surrounded by a fluffy comforter and six pillows, one hand still rubbing her eye. An intense wave of tenderness filled his body like helium in a balloon. If he cared for her anymore, his feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

“Yes?” he breathed.

“Thank you,” she said, dropping her hand from her face, “I… I really appreciate-“ Her gaze dropped, embarrassed. “I know you don’t have to- I mean I’m not a child or a silly teenager so you aren’t here to take care of me or anything. I can take care of myself and-“

Solas cut her off, kissing her full on the mouth. Nervous laughter bubbled up her throat. He pulled back, realizing her reluctance to meet his eyes.

“What is it you really want to say, Alana?” he asked, sitting on the bed beside her.

“I get that we’re adults and professionals, and I get that this is a secret or whatever but I just- I know we’re friends and stuff but are we- I guess I just want…” Her sentence was left hanging. She looked dejectedly out the window, face red.

The implications dawned on Solas. “You want a status report on our relationship?” he joked.

She huffed, “Yeah.”

“You’re afraid it’s a sex thing?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, looking out the window.

“Do _you_ think it’s a sex thing?” he probed, chest tight.

“No!” she protested, “I don’t. That’s what’s got me worried. I don’t want a misunderstanding. I haven’t had a serious relationship for… quite some time. Not to mention that owning property and our jobs-“

“Alana.”

She faced him for the first time since the discussion had started. He stared into her eyes, his nerves on fire. Too early to break out the confession, too guilty to say it without hating himself. But God, those eyes.

“I…I’m very serious about this relationship.” Cowardice had won. “But I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want.”

Alana raised her hands to cup his face. Her soft fingers traced the line of his jaw, the curves of his cheekbones. His breath hitched at her touch. She never broke eye contact. Then her lips were on his, a different kind of kiss.

This kiss was not ravenous, not lust. Her lips were tender, their lips slow and deliberate. There was no demand, no rush. The kiss was not the preliminary- it was the focus.

He had not been kissed so tenderly in years.

When they broke apart he pulled her to his chest. They embraced comfortably, feeling secure for the first time in weeks. No more questions, no more doubts. They didn’t need to say they loved each other- the kiss had said it for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapters today. I'm hitting a block and I don't want to force things out for you guys if they're no good. I honestly never thought the fic would gain as much attention as it has and I have an outline but I never planned to actually get as far as I have! I'll be working on how to proceed for the rest of tonight so that you guys will get at least one good, long chapter before the weekend ends. I appreciate all the comments/kudos/subscribes/etc! You guys keep me going. Thank you. :)


	26. Campaign

As they had nowhere to be, they stayed in bed, cuddling, dozing. It wasn’t until nearly eleven did either of them get up. Solas coaxed Alana out of bed with the promise of breakfast, her stomach evidently being the way to her heart. He wasn’t wrong- at the promise of his cooking, she willingly sat up and threw on clothes.

Solas made his way to her kitchen to begin searching for ingredients. When he opened the fridge his eyebrows furrowed. The first time he had been here there had been so little food he could barely make an omelet. Now cooking components lined the shelves, very few boxes of takeout among them. Out of curiosity he checked the cupboards and found the same thing- a bag of sugar, flour, various spices and boxes of breading.

“Alana, is this the normal state of your cupboards?” he called. She was still in the bedroom.

Her laugh echoed through the hallway. “Uh, no! I knew you’d be coming over and, well…”

Solas smiled at the open cabinet. His eyes flicked from one item to the next, conjuring up a plan. A few boxes and spices stood out to him. He grabbed the batter mix, chocolate chips, cinnamon, butter, and a package of bacon from the bottom drawer of the fridge.

Alana’s soft footsteps traveled through the hall as the pans and utensils he had grabbed clanged and crashed into position on the stovetop. Soon there was bacon sizzling and batter being whisked. He pretended to not notice as Alana paused at the entrance to the kitchen, watching him. He sprinkled some cinnamon into the batter, stirred, and opened the chocolate chips. When he could no longer resist acknowledging her presence, she had turned away into the living room.

Solas had just poured the first pancake into the pan when he heard her worried, “Oh shit.”

The pancake sizzled, bubbled in the pan. Solas couldn’t leave it so he called, “Alana? What’s wrong?”

Alana shuffled into the room, looking down at her cellphone. Her face was drawn, lips tight. She didn’t look up as he flipped the pancake.

“I have five missed calls. Four from Josephine, one from Leliana.”

“Leliana?”

She waved her hand above her head as if swatting a fly. “My Media Consultant. She runs the school newspaper and has connections with the local new channel. Keeps the school looking good no matter what happens.”

Solas nodded, moving the first pancake out of the pan and pouring a second. Alana was punching numbers into her phone for her voicemail. The automated voice announced two new messages. Alana put it on speaker.

“Alana,” Josephine’s tinny voice nearly shouted, “You have to call us back, talk to Leliana, I’d text you but she said not to and- oh goodness, just call Leliana back, promise me, today!”

Alana deleted the message.

“Ms. Lavellan,” a different voice said calmly on the second message, “I would much appreciate a call from you at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”

With a soft _beep_ the second message was deleted.

Alana hadn’t looked up in quite some time. Solas flipped another pancake, unsure of the implications of these calls. The longer Alana looked at her phone, however, the tighter his chest became.

“Josephine’s always turning everything into a disaster,” he offered, “Perhaps-“

“No. When Leliana calls it’s usually bad.”

Solas did not interject further.

“I’m going to call her. I have to have it on speaker. I need to pace and will probably be writing things down.”

“Should I do my best not to listen?”

“No, of course not, feel free to interject if you have any suggestions on dealing with the problem.”

Alana placed the phone on the kitchen table, hitting the callback button. As it rang she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from a junk drawer. A click signaled the beginning of the bad news.

“Ms. Lavellan.”

“Leliana.”

“Am I to assume this call is not private?” the woman on the line said. Alana looked towards Solas.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. …”

“Leliana is fine, Professor Solas.”

“Leliana, then.”

Alana offered Solas a weak smile of approval. He had maneuvered the conversation correctly, then. The pleasantries in Leliana’s voice dropped immediately.

“Ms. Lavellan, I need to inform you that the Board is planning on dropping some very _interesting_ news on Monday.”

“They’re not voting already,” Alana said, incredulous.

“No, they’re not.” The phone crackled in silence for a moment. Alana’s shoulders were tense beneath the large t-shirt. Solas turned his attention back to the bacon which he had nearly blackened in his distracted state. A heavy sigh from the phone line filled the room with static. “They’re announcing a second candidate for President.”

They both froze. The only sound resonating in the room was the pops and sizzles from the pans. Unbridled anger welled itself in Solas’s abdomen, rising like the water level in a monsoon. He looked at Alana who showed no sign of sadness, not one inch of discouragement. She stood a proud statue, pen and paper in hand, chin raised. Only her dead stare out the kitchen window betrayed her anger. Pride and anger mixed in his belly, swirling like water in oil.

“The announcement is going to show in page three of the local newspaper,” Leliana continued after letting the information sink in, “My contacts there let me read it. It has mentions of your crash and hospitalization but nothing straight derogatory.”

“But they’re implying an injured woman shouldn’t be running,” Alana said.

“Yes.”

“And their candidate is a forty-some white male??”

“Correct.”

“Family?”

“No.”

Alana’s forehead creased, pen scratching on paper. “Odd.”

“Odd, but you don’t have a family either.”

“Noted. Perceived even playing field. Name?”

“Sethius Amladaris. Seth to his friends.”

“Alright. I assume you have something on him.”

Leliana hesitated. “Not yet, actually. He’s proving quite allusive.”

“Even for you?”

“Even for me.”

Solas watched this exchange, his pride growing. Alana’s direct switch between personal and professional was impressive to watch. He had never truly seen her in action before and it was a sight to behold. Her carefully controlled expressions, her messy shorthand on the paper, her pointed questions and observations. She knew how to rule in a position of power.

“Last question, Leliana,” Alana said, her façade cracking slightly as she ran a hand through her hair, “What are we going to do about it?”

“I’m glad you asked. First, we let the paper run. Give it a day. The student paper will have a strong rebuttal planned by tonight to run on Tuesday morning. On Tuesday you need to do exactly what you did Friday- visit classrooms. Josephine and I will take care of any administrative filing and will text you with any decisions that need your approval. Talk to the students, answer their questions. Gain a presence. Add that presence to the rebuttal article in the paper, give it a week or so and the whole school will be in an uproar about the Board wanting a different President.”

“Students and public opinion is about half of what we need though, Leliana. We need a professional opinion.”

“That’s what your lunches are for. You already have the police on your side and three professors. Bring in more teachers, you’ll be garnering the trust of half the faculty. Not to mention word of mouth.”

“Alright.” Alana finally sat, power face gone, shoulders slumped as she leaned against the back of the chair. “Thanks, Leliana.”

“Of course, Ms. Lavellan. I’ll call you with any updates.”

The phone went dead and Solas turned to Alana, plate in hand. She looked exhausted, completely beaten. His anger dissipated, her downcast eyes softening his resolve. He set the plate on the table next to the phone. It was piled high with chocolate chip pancakes.

“I made bacon also.”

“You’re a gift from God, Solas.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead before heading back for the bacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, long chapter! Yay, Leliana!  
> Thanks so much for the encouragement friends, it helped me figure out exactly how to get to what I needed without altering the flow of the story- which is good news for all of you since I can write better and faster knowing how to proceed, haha. You're all lovely and deserve piles of chocolate chip pancakes. :)


	27. Phone Calls

As they ate, Alana made more phone calls. The first was to Josephine.

“Please tell me you’ve talked to Leliana.”

“Hello to you too, Josie.”

“Alana-“

A tight smile flitted across Alana’s lips. “I have Josie, don’t give yourself a migraine. I need names.”

“People to invite to lunch?”

“No,” Alana said, scratching something on the pad while taking a bite of pancake, “Professors you think will be willing to talk to me and let me sit in on their classes this week.”

There was a pause. “Brilliant.”

“Leliana always is. Me, fifty-fifty chance.”

Josephines quiet laugh echoed on the line. “I’ll text you.”

“Alright.”

Alana ended the call, immediately searching her contacts for a different name. She set the phone down as it rang, grabbing some bacon to shove quickly into her mouth. Solas admired the efficiency.

“Hello?”

“Hey Varric, it’s me.”

“Madame President! What can I do for ya?”

“Help me keep that nickname.”

As she explained the situation to Varric, Solas watched her movements. How her fork twirled in the air, regardless of the food, how she managed to articulate around mouthfuls of food, how she knew exactly how to go about handling the situation with only a pen, paper, and phone. Their food was dwindling and Solas began to clear their plates. Before he could stand, however, her eyes met his and she pointed her fork at him. She mouthed, “No,” her fork gesturing for him to sit back down. He obliged.

Alana’s explanation finished, she waited for a response from Varric. The line crackled and his voice intoned, “Well, shit.”

Alana laughed, really laughed for the first time since she had seen the missed calls on her phone. It was reassuring- she could handle this problem with a smile and a firm hand.

“So I need more teachers willing to let me sit in on classes and talk to me. I know you already brought me Cole but I was hoping-“

“No problem, Lavellan. I’ll try looking into this Seth guy too.”

“And relay the same information to Cole?”

“Of course. I’ll text you.”

“Sure thing, Varric.”

The phone call ended with a simple click and suddenly Alana’s eyes were boring into him.

“Solas-“

“I know some people.”

“How many can you give me?”

Solas struggled, thinking of the few people he knew in his department. “I can give you one, for sure. Possibly two.”

He grabbed the pen from her hand, licked the tip, and began writing e-mail addresses. Alana sipped the coffee he had made her. When he had finished she slid the paper back over to her side of the table to look at it.

“Which one first?”

“Professor Pavus. Teaches the Dark Ages. No one in the History department necessarily likes him but he will be ecstatic to be observed by the Vice President.”

“And why not,” she paused, squinting to read is small handwriting, “Professor Fer?”

“If she wants you, she’ll come to you. Gather others first. Madame de Fer will come.”

“Madame de Fer?” Alana asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, “She’s not really called the Iron Lady is she?”

“That’s the running nickname with the students and, admittedly, the staff. Her name’s Vivienne.”

Alana shook her head, waving the thought away. “We’ll start with Pavus then, and whoever Josephine and Varric come up with.” She stared at her phone anxiously, fiddling with it. Her body was tense and it was hard to remember that this strong woman still wore men’s boxers and a three-sizes-too-big t-shirt. She hadn’t combed away the bedhead yet. “Hopefully everyone gets back to me soon. I should also text Cassandra and let her know what’s up. I don’t know what she could do, maybe coordinate something with Rutherford and-“

“Alana-“

“I should really e-mail all these people now so that when Monday comes they’re not ambushed. Plus I need to know the class times and figure out a schedule-“

“Alana,” he said firmly, grabbing her hand. She looked up, eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

Her shoulders drooped, one shoulder exposed by the neck of her shirt. She ran a hand through her mussed hair, her fingers getting trapped in the tangles.

“I’m angry,” she muttered, “I’ve done my damndest to play nice with these assholes and they just,” she threw one hand up in the air in disgust. Solas squeezed the hand still on the table.

“Well,” he said, flipping her phone down so the screen was not visible, “You’ve done all you can do for now. Perhaps attempt to forget about it until later tonight. By then you’ll have all the information you need and you can send e-mails. But sitting here being angry and staring at your phone will do you no good.”

She sighed heavily, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re right,” she admitted, “Let’s do something distracting.”

“What would you like to do?”

“Well, these dishes should be done soon.”

“Would you like help?”

A tired smile crept along her face. “I’d like that.”

Alana started the faucet and poured in the soap. Solas searched the drawers around him for a dishtowel only for Alana to throw one at him and have it land perfectly on his head. He smiled, promising to get her back for that. When her back was turned he scooped some of the mountainous bubbles from the sink. Solas took aim and fired, a rain shower of bubbles and water landing all over her head. Alana gasped, grabbing bubbles for herself.

The bubble war had begun and the Board had been forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This needed to end happily so here's to bubble wars :)


	28. Study

“Do you think I’m not ready for the position?”

It was Sunday evening and he had been inputting attendance grades in his computer. Alana had one of his art history books open, perusing the paintings. To his surprise he found that she needed reading glasses and they hung low on her nose as she flipped the pages slowly. She sat curled in the one empty armchair of his study, bare feet against the soft upholstery. Paintings and books were strewn across the floor, some leaning up against the armchair she sat in.

Solas leaned back in his desk chair, letting the seat spin slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“No, it was not. I am more interested in its actual intention.”

Alana sighed, pushing her glasses up as she looked up at him. The book was open to a Rothko painting, yellow on orange. The glossy page of the book reflected faint color on her neck.

“I want an honest answer, that’s all.”

Solas picked his words carefully. “I think you are more than prepared for the responsibilities position but less so prepared for the social aspects of the position.”

Alana bit her lip, looking away towards his bookshelves.

“I believe you are more than capable of the actual running of a school,” he reiterated, trying to explain himself, “However, there are certain social graces that you do not come by naturally. You are _very_ stubborn, for one. Sometimes you must smile, agree, and do things you do not want to in order to make people happy.”

Her forehead scrunched and she turned towards him, righteous fire in her eyes. “Don’t tell me, Solas. The fountain.”

“Alana-“

“Why should I choose the happiness of the Board over the students who actually use the resources of the school? What makes the Board so much more important than the kids who pay our salaries to mold their minds?”

“I do not disagree with you,” he clarified, hands up in surrender, “I am just stating that your stubbornness will no doubt hurt your chances of receiving the position and afterwards, keeping the position.”

Alana huffed, closing the book. Solas repressed a sigh.

“You wanted an honest opinion, Alana.”

“You just make it sound so hopeless. Like, why even try?”

“I never said I didn’t think you could do it.”

The lines in her forehead smoothed as she returned eye contact. Solas let himself smile. Alana’s lips twitched, a smile fighting through her frustration. He noticed that she had ripped skin off a portion of her lip. The call yesterday had shaken her confidence. He glanced at his computer, the attendance grades nearly done. 8:03 pm. She would be leaving soon, no doubt. He refused to let her leave on this note. He glanced at the back of the book she had chosen.

“Abstract Expressionism?”

“Trying to expand my understanding of art,” she shrugged.

“How is it going?”

“I’m becoming a bit frustrated with people who paint squares and call it art.”

Solas laughed and finally a smile crossed Alana’s face. She reopened the book and flipped through it.

“Take Pollock, for instance,” she started, “I’ve heard the name, I knew what pieces he did, knew he was greatly respected in the art world, etc. But what the hell? The man dribbles some paint on canvases, sells for millions? Or Rothko, painting different colored rectangles and squares? Christ.”

Solas stood, walking to look over her shoulder at the paintings in the book. She stopped on the Rothko that had been reflecting in her neck not long ago.

“I understand your frustration,” he said, “but have you ever seen any of these in person?”

“No.”

“We will have to fix that. These pieces are better understood when standing in front of them.”

Alana looked up at him, smiling. He kissed her nose.

“Next weekend?”

“Sure.”

Unseen by either of them, Solas’s computer blinked a red notification on his toolbar. New e-mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry my friends- I've had a very rough week. Significant other got pneumonia, had to take care of them, subsequently also got pneumonia. I'm on my last few days of antibiotics and I'm able to function now. I'm writing more today but had to get it started somehow. I'm so sorry!!!
> 
> Thank you for putting up with me <3


	29. New Friends

Alana had planned several class sit-ins on Monday. She had called Leliana saying it was best to gain a presence before she “knew” about the article so her sit-ins wouldn’t look like an attempt to gain popularity. Solas and Leliana had encouraged her. He knew that she wouldn’t be texting most of the day. Yet all of Monday morning he checked his phone, nervous for updates.

At 11:52 he grew fidgety. He would be leaving for the Deli soon if she didn’t text. He sat in his office, oblivious to the small e-mail notification that continued to blink in his toolbar. A knock on his office door made his heart skip a beat. Two shadows lingered outside the door.

“Come in,” he called.

In strode Pavus, his half-open shirt below his suit coat driving Solas’s mouth into a grimace.

“Solas, my colleague! It seems that you are to join the beautiful Ms. Lavellan and myself for lunch! Aren’t you lucky?” the man said, chest puffed.

“Very,” Solas mumbled.

Alana scooted in behind Pavus, waving a polite hello. Solas raised an eyebrow. Alana just smiled.

“How are you today, Ms. Lavellan?” Solas asked.

“Oh just fine, Professor,” she said suppressing a giggle, “I just sat in on Professor Pavus’s-“

“Ms. Lavellan, please, call me Dorian!”

“Only when you stop calling me ‘Ms. Lavellan’, Professor Pavus.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, smiling. “But you’re the superior here, Ms. Lavellan. If your staff doesn’t call you by proper titles where will the respect go?”

“I’m not looking for respect Prof- Dorian.”

“Well, you already have it anyway, Alana,” Dorian smirked. Alana laughed.

“Quite the sparring match,” Solas noted, grabbing his coat, “Shall I drive then?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Solas,” Alana said.

A quick flash of some higher observation seemed to pass over Dorian’s face as he looked between Solas and Alana. Solas did his best to ignore it. If it was that obvious it was best to ignore it.

At the Deli, Cassandra, Varric, and Cole were waiting for them. Joining them was a red-headed woman, looking lithe and relaxed; a well-toned man beside Josephine, his blonde hair slicked back looking uncomfortable; and a quiet man across from Leliana, his dark hair and beard hiding most of his face.

“Well if this isn’t a party!” Dorian said, walking in, his hand at the ready to greet everyone.

All people at the table stood, ready for introductions and hand shaking. Alana stayed beside Solas, Dorian already off and introducing himself without guidance.

“Solas, may I introduce Professor Blackwall,” Alana said, gesturing towards the man with the beard.

“A pleasure, Blackwall.”

“Same to you.”

“What do you teach?”

“Sculpture,” the man grunted.

The redhead suddenly was at his side, smiling. Her eyes were tight though, heavy with some sort of distrust. Alana was still speaking to Blackwall, the man’s quiet grunts and nods accentuating his contributions to the conversation.

“Professor Solas,” he said, extending his hand out to the woman, “And you are?”

“We’ve met briefly, Professor,” she said.

He recognized the voice. “Ah, Leliana, a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Something in her voice put Solas on edge. He didn’t know how to continue the conversation, wasn’t sure what she looked at him like that for. Her eyes scanned over every inch of his face, searching for something he could not discern. He met her stare, refusing to be unnerved. She nodded after a moment, smiling and walking to greet others. Something felt off- she had not left satisfied with whatever she had found.

The man with the slicked back hair found his way over to Solas.

“Cullen Rutherford, Professor. Event Coordination.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Rutherford. Professor Solas.”

The man nodded, moving on. Solas shook his head as more awkward greetings filled the small, rundown Deli. The man running the counter looked as if he had never seen so many people in the restaurant in his life. Indeed, for the first time he had ever been, Solas realized that it was loud in the Deli.

Varric caught his eye and gestured towards the counter. Solas nodded and they both left the throng of people to order food.

After they had placed a few of the orders, Varric looked over at him, glancing coyly over to the group at the tables.

“So, Samaritan, you brought the flamboyant one.”

Solas smirked. “Yes. You brought the other quiet one, I’m assuming.”

Varric chuckled, “Yep. How about the Red and Curly over there though?”

“Alana mentioned them. Leliana, Media Coordinator. Cullen, Event Coordinator. Probably Leliana’s idea. Presence is everything.”

“So Alana’s council, essentially.”

“Essentially.”

“Good. Can’t believe there’s so many of us though. Kid’s gonna have a field day.”

Solas looked over to Cole. Indeed, his eyes were wide as he took in the group, mouth a tight line.

“You think this is gonna work?” Varric asked, looking back at Solas.

“We can only hope.”

They returned to the table and Cassandra and Cullen stood to order for others. The group had pushed three tables together, Alana at the head. Solas took an empty seat next to Blackwall, listening to the conversations happening by Alana. Blackwall remained silent for the most part. When everyone had received their food conversation began breaking into smaller groups. As Solas was not near anyone he knew well he focused on his sandwich, occasionally glancing at Alana. She was smiling, laughing at Varric and Dorian. It was going well.

“Seen you at the bar.”

Solas looked over at Blackwall. It was one of the first things he had said since their introductions.

“Have you?” Solas asked, raising an eyebrow, examining the man. Blackwall had not looked at him but continued to focus on his sandwich.

“At Wiz’s place.”

The face and stature of the man clicked into place. He had been there when he and Alana had gone out for drinks. The man alone at the bar.

“You go there often?” he asked.

“Been going there for years. Not usually with anyone, like to keep to myself. So do you, I notice. Usually.”

There was a hint of accusation in his words. He remembered. Solas vaguely remembered the shadow at the bar, the shadow that always ordered silently, raising one finger. God, he had always been there.

“You’re the one that plays Billy Joel on the juke when it gets late,” Solas noted, deflecting his accusation.

Blackwall laughed, “That I do. See someone remembers, then.”

“I apologize for not recognizing you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

A tense silence filled between them. The accusation was not forgotten. Solas did his best to eat without betraying his discomfort.

“I get that it’s a secret,” Blackwall finally said, “But don’t you dare hurt her. She is a sweet lady.”

Solas swallowed. “I don’t plan on it. You’re right- she is a sweet lady. Thank you for understanding.”

Blackwall grunted beside him and Solas relaxed finally. He glanced at Alana to see her staring at him. He smiled and tilted his head towards her. She giggled and bent to take a bite of her sandwich. Lunches were taking on a whole new level of meaning. As their prattle echoed off the low ceiling of the Deli, Solas realized that they really could combat the Board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes if you go back to that chapter at the bar, Blackwall is there, just not in name. Hehe. Playing the long con!!


	30. Momentum

Tuesday’s lunch brought two new faces. Solas decided to stay away from these ones- whatever man refused to be called anything but “The Iron Bull” was not someone he was sure he wanted to befriend. Not to mention, he had brought a senior student with him to lunch.

The Iron Bull was in charge of the martial arts club on campus. He taught similar classes on campus and was well loved by many students. The senior student he had asked to join them, Cremisius, was President of the club that Bull ran. Josephine and Leliana seemed not to mind Krem’s presence, if not encouraged it. Solas knew what they were thinking- a student seeing the Presidential candidate so down-to-earth would spread word of Alana’s goodwill- but he could not put his unease to rest.

Alana, however, was so completely at ease that laughter rarely had a break between the food. As much as Solas hesitated at some of the attendees of this group, he couldn’t help appreciating their affect on Alana.

“Please, Krem, tell me about these club meetings,” she asked, grinning around her drink.

“Well, we all start with some warm-up exercises and then we spar. Chief’s always overseeing us and pushing us to find our weak points. Afterwards most of us go out for drinks and-“

“Of Gatorade. Drinks of Gatorade, boss,” Iron Bull clarified, clearing is throat.

“Sure. You go out and buy Gatorade and Cassandra goes out to buy frilly dresses after her shift at the station,” Varric laughed. Cassandra shot him a nasty look and Solas did everything he could to not laugh at Varric’s unease.

Alana raised her eyebrow over at Leliana and Josephine. Leliana shrugged. Josephine had hidden her face in her hands. Solas watched this all with interest. Outside association of professors and students, though not uncommon, was looked down upon. Especially if there was a potential for some of those members to be underage.

Alana remained relaxed and smiling as she looked over to Krem. “The whole club? Surely these are not considered club outings?”

Krem, a little flustered, shook his head, “No, ma’am. Only those of us who helped create the club.”

There was a pause as Alana ate a fry. “I’d like to join you all sometime.”

Solas saw Iron Bull’s entire body relax as he laughed, saying, “Anytime, Boss. Feel free to go to the meetings too- could teach you a few things, if you like.”

“I might do that,” Alana smiled.

The door to the Deli opened, its little bell ringing weakly as the door slammed back on its hinges. Laughter and talk dropped dead. Solas saw Cassandra lift herself slightly, hand subconsciously reaching her waist for her baton. Solas turned to see a young woman in a plaid shirt, half open, and jeans. She was covered head to toe in different colored stains, her short hair matted. The woman went to the counter to talk to the cashier.

The collective group was astounded to see anyone new in the Deli after it being empty for as long as all of them could remember.

“I think she works on campus,” Varric whispered. Unfortunately it was now so quiet in the Deli that everyone could hear him. Leliana and Josephine were looking between each other and the woman, quietly trying to figure out who it could be.

Before anyone could come to a conclusion, the woman walked over to their corner table.

“Hey, alright, lunch again. Sandwiches here are good. Got good taste, President. Know where the goods are. Not at any fancy coffee shop or anything. I like that.”

Alana stood to greet the woman but the woman had already dragged a chair over, its legs squealing against the tile floor. She sat and Alana rushed to sit back down, facing her.

“Quite a group here too. Not too many uptights. Except down there with the one who looks like she’s gonna have a hernie-whatsit, and Glarey-McGlare face down there. Otherwise ok collection of people,” the woman paused, looking at Alana, “But no _people_ people. Well, except maybe that one,” she said gesturing at Krem.

“I’m sorry,” Alana sputtered out, “But who are you?”

“Ah, right, Sera! Teach the cooking classes. Also work with the community around campus. Taught the guy who runs this place, actually. That’s how I knew these shindigs kept happening. Keep getting more people and I figured _I’m_ people.”

Alana’s face was scrunched, processing her words. Solas was completely lost. This woman, Sera, was young, raunchy. Yet, she taught the man who made their sandwiches.

Before anyone could react, Iron Bull laughed. “You’re gaining attention, boss.”

Nervous chuckling filled the air. Alana smiled, her face clear.

“You know a lot of people in the community, then,” Alana clarified.

“Just the kind of person you need, eh?” Sera smiled.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?”

“That’s why I came, innit?”

From behind them the cashier brought out a basket of food for Sera. She thanked him and began eating, still waiting for a reaction from Alana. The cashier slinked away, no doubt listening for a reaction. Solas realized that man had probably been watching them for the past few weeks and decided to tell Sera when the party’s intentions and size grew.

“Welcome to the group, Sera,” Alana said, “I’d love to discuss sitting in on one of your classes this week.”

“I got one in an hour.”

“Deal.”

Sera grinned, taking a bite out of her sandwich. Alana beamed. He knew why- They were finally picking up momentum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sera so much  
> Also, I'm on spring break and I'm going to do my damndest to put out at least a chapter a day. Still not feeling too hot but I'll do my best!


	31. Minimalist

Alana sat beside him on her couch. He had driven her home tonight and she had ordered them takeout. As the both ate their Chinese food, Solas reflected on the past few days. It was now Wednesday night and Alana had visited over fifteen different classes and still had more lined up.

“You were right, Solas,” she said around her lo mein.

“About?”

“Vivienne. She e-mailed me today, inviting me to her classroom.”

“I wish you luck, then.”

“Do I need luck?”

“Madame de Fer is drawn to power,” he explained, “But if she thinks you are unworthy she is not kind.”

“Noted.”

They both slurped up their food in comfortable silence. Solas glanced over to her tired eyes, the dark circles beginning to peek through the makeup. He pressed his knee against hers, gently rubbing his foot against her calf. She leaned against his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“I’m exhausted,” she admitted, “Lunches wear me down now. I have fun but it feels so much like business now. Not to mention I haven’t been able to do paperwork since last week.”

“Isn’t Josephine handling that?”

“Yeah, but I still have to sign off on all of it. But because of all the commotion she’s refusing to let me do it. She says the sign-offs can wait.”

“Then they can.”

“But-“

“Alana, if Josephine of all people says they can wait, I doubt they are urgent.”

Alana chuckled. “You’re right.”

Solas set his takeout box on he coffee table. He turned back to Alana, picking her up from under her knees and set her on his lap. She laughed, waving her fork around, protesting, “Solas! What-?”

He kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’re home now. Forget about work for a bit.”

“Solas I can’t, I-“

He kissed her lips, the spices from the takeout tingling on his mouth. Alana’s body relaxed and she rested her forehead against his, as they broke apart. Solas smiled as she took a deep breath, a smile on her face. She closed her eyes, one arm wrapping around his neck.

“I guess I can forget for a little bit,” she whispered.

“Good.”

Her takeout box found its way beside his. They lay down on her couch, feet wrapping around each other’s, arms entwined. Solas drank in the sight of her, the smell of her hair. Little kisses on the top of her hair, little kisses on her forehead. She reached up, kissing his neck and the beast woke. His hands grabbed at her shoulders, clenching as her lips trailed down to his collarbone. Throbbing heat began to rise and-

Her phone was ringing.

She groaned against his skin and it took all his restraint to not throw her phone into the kitchen. Alana reached over, pushing back a stray lock of hair as she hit the answer button.

“Yeah?” Her voice was husky, rough. If he had not been similarly frustrated, he might have laughed.

She listened for a moment, her expression unchanged. Solas could barely hear the person on the other end. When Alana’s face twisted in concern, Solas knew that whatever they wanted to do was now on hold. The beast howled in frustration.

“Ok. Come on over. Yeah. No, it’s no problem, hun. I’ll see you soon.”

As she hung up the phone he asked, “Who was that? Something wrong?”

“It’s Cass. Personal issues.”

Solas struggled to imagine the stoic Cassandra breaking down. He did not enjoy the mental image it brought forth. No doubt she would come over and they would end the night watching romance movies and crying. His mind wandered over to the book on Alana’s shelf.

“I’m sorry, Solas.”

He gently unwrapped himself from her, gathering his guilt and shoving it to the back of his head. With a smile he pulled on his coat as he kissed her.

“It’s no problem, Alana. I have no doubt kept you from your friends. I do not wish to steal you away.”

Alana groaned, “Ugh, no, please, steal me away from everyone. I’d get over it.”

He laughed good-naturedly at her sexual frustration. “Two more days. Then I’ll steal you away to an art museum and we’ll have an educational tryst in the minimalist gallery.”

She smiled at that and stood to kiss him goodbye at the door. “Not much to hide behind in the minimalist area, though.”

“No. But our clothes will be minimalist. Perhaps people will mistake us for a performance piece.”

A laugh escaped her lips as he opened the door.

“Goodnight, Solas.”

“Goodnight, Alana.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to not write another introduction chapter. So here's a short interlude with sexual frustration and more bad art jokes.


	32. Plans in Motion

Vivienne stood tall, as intimidating as Solas remembered. Her entrance into the Deli was strong, heels clicking loudly, steps assured. He only saw the faintest glimmer of hesitation as she looked at her surroundings and at the people she would soon be sitting next to. The grimy interior and exterior had definitely put her off. Somehow, though, Alana stood just as proud beside her, engaging in polite conversation as if they had just walked into Alana’s office instead of a rundown delicatessen.

Conversation dropped to a hush as they stopped at the head of the table. Vivienne looked across the table, taking in everyone’s stares and posture. Alana pulled up an extra chair as Vivienne began to make the rounds.

Curt greetings and handshakes lasted no longer than a few seconds. Solas stood in preparation of his own turn.

“Professor Solas,” she said, both hands covering his in a dominating handshake, “I know we have already met but I did not know you enjoyed the pleasure of Ms. Lavellan’s company.”

“So do we all,” Solas countered carefully.

“Indeed, it is quite a company gathered. A pleasure to see you amongst such,”-her voice hesitated slightly, not long enough for anyone who did not know her to notice- “respected individuals.”

Sera made a fart noise at Iron Bull behind them and Blackwall laughed loudly.

Vivienne released Solas’s hand and moved on. It took every ounce of his will to restrain his laughter. He glanced at Alana from behind Vivienne’s back and she raised her eyebrows at him. He shook his head. She smiled.

When Vivienne had made her way back to the head of the table next to Alana. Alana pulled out the chair she had grabbed for her and Vivienne gingerly sat down, butt at the very edge of the plastic upholstery. Thankfully, due to foresight on both Solas’s and Alana’s part, Vivienne was surrounded by Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric. Dorian immediately started up a conversation with Madame de Fer about her clothes and the entire party seemed to relax.

Dorian offered to take Vivienne’s order and she agreed. Once Dorian was gone she turned to speak to Alana once more.

“Ms. Lavellan, not to disparage the atmosphere you’ve chosen for these gatherings, but have you considered moving to better dining quarters?”

Blackwall restrained Sera from an outburst. Solas made a mental note to commend Blackwall on his quick action later.

“I have considered it,” Alana said sensibly, “But currently this is the best place to accommodate all of us. I do not want to make a scene at any busy restaurants, nor do I want to bring unnecessary attention to these gatherings. Not to mention the food here is quite delicious. The cook here was taught by our very own Sera.”

Sera pouted, satiated but on guard. Blackwall kept a steady hand on the back of her chair. Solas noted the way that Josephine looked at Blackwall, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Blackwall’s face seemed to soften with her gaze.

Vivienne had not noticed the exchange of looks down the table or she pretended not to notice. Either way she continued, “I have no doubt about the quality of the food here, Ms. Lavellan. I am more concerned about the appearance of such gatherings taking place in a place that is, well, a bit more rundown than a place of your title’s standards.”

Dorian came back, orders placed. Alana simply said, “It is a good observation to make, Vivienne. I will take it into consideration.”

“So, Vivienne, please enlighten me as to how we are the only two here with any degree of fashion sense,” Dorian entered.

Vivienne let one of her rare smiles escape her lips. “Why, Dorian, darling, we should not insult the esteemed guests of our President-to-be. Instead we should focus on educating them on the proper ways to dress. For instance, Ms. Lavellan would greatly benefit from our help.”

Alana laughed between them. Solas noticed how Cassandra’s lip had curled at Vivienne’s opinions on the Deli and Alana but she had not interjected. He wondered why she had not interjected. Even stranger was Varric’s unnatural silence. Even Cole was nudging Varric, whispering under the tones of conversation, Varric trying to reassure Cole that he was fine, Kid, don’t worry about it. Neither Cassandra nor Varric had made eye contact all of lunch.

Solas turned to focus on his own surroundings only to catch Leliana staring at him.

“Can I help you with something, Leliana?” he asked amiably.

“Nothing, Professor. Just observing.”

“As am I.”

“I know.”

Solas raised an eyebrow and Leliana broke eye contact, turning to speak to Josephine. Beside her, Cullen was speaking across the table to Krem. Iron Bull, Sera, and Blackwall were laughing about something inappropriate once again. As the food arrived, Solas marveled at the small cliques their lunches had already created.

The table fully immersed in conversation, Alana broke through the group chatter to ask, “Iron Bull, when is your next club meeting?”

“Friday at five, boss! Planning on stopping by?”

“If it’s an opportune meeting to stop in on. I don’t want to disrupt club activities.”

“Naw, come on and join us! I’ll introduce you to the crew.”

Vivienne, Josephine and Leliana all had a similar look of fear on their faces. Alana ignored their reactions. Solas smirked. Had Josephine thought Alana made false promises? No doubt she would also go out with them for drinks.

“Well this is something I _must_ see,” Dorian proclaimed, “Bull, would you allow spectators?”

“Nuh-uh, Dorian. If you go, you spar. No exceptions.”

Dorian pouted, rubbing his mustache. “Fine, then.”

“What, really?” Bull said somewhat incredulous.

“Yes. Really. I am infinitely curious to see our Madame President in action.”

“I can’t promise anything exciting,” Alana protested.

Varric finally spoke up, a faint smile crossing his face, “Sparkler, you’re going to have to tell me everything that happens.”

Dorian winked conspiratorly at Varric, also glancing at Solas. “I promise nothing, boys. If you want to know everything, you should go yourselves.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Varric chuckled. Solas pretended to not have been silently included in that conversation. He admitted, seeing Alana fight would be interesting and no doubt beautiful, but his inclusion would raise eyebrows. Not to mention he was not one for violence of any sort.

“It’s set then,” Dorian announced, “Alana and I shall learn to spar at Bull’s club this Friday.”

“You’re all welcome to come,” Bull mentioned, “You just gotta spar.”

Alana laughed and caught Solas’s eye. He smiled, shaking his head slightly. She shrugged and took a drink of her soda.

“Ms. Lavellan, if we’re inviting you to further yourself, then may I suggest I take you shopping for a nice pantsuit or dress. For when you inevitably face down the Board of Education,” Vivienne offered.

“I’d love to,” Alana decided, her eyes lighting up, “Cassandra, promise you’ll join us.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and shook her head. Alana raised an eyebrow at her and Cass waved her hand at her. “Maybe,” she acquiesced.

“I’ll make plans with my tailor for next week,” Vivienne said, settling the matter.

Alana beamed amongst her newfound friends, Solas watching fondly from the far end of the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love Viv. Actually I love everyone. I could write thousands of words about them just having conversations. But I won't, thatd be silly.  
> -Silently hopes no one minds that Im sliding in my own ships into the other characters around them eep-  
> Next stop, art date!


	33. Rothko

Solas passed the bathroom, catching a glimpse of Alana caking on makeup over one eye. He began making them a quick breakfast of egg sandwiches while she prepared for their day at the art museum. She walked into the kitchen behind him just as he finished the first egg.

“How does it look?” she asked, a nervous trill in her voice.

Solas turned to look at her eye and he smiled apologetically. “It looks like you’re trying to hide a black eye, Alana.”

She groaned, heading back to the bathroom. Solas chuckled quietly so she would not overhear.

When he had arrived at her house the previous night Dorian was there, icing her eye as she lay on the couch.

“Please don’t freak out,” she had groaned.

“What happened?” Solas had asked, rushing to her side.

“Ah, well, she didn’t dodge the punch,” Dorian had said, nervous laughter strangling his speech, “Should’ve guessed this might happen. Josephine is absolutely furious with us.”

Alana had laughed, wincing. “Josie’s pissed. Cass is proud of me though.”

“Cassandra went?” Solas had asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” she had waved him off, “How long do you think this’ll last, Dorian?”

“If you keep this elevated and iced? You’ll be able to cover it successfully with makeup by tomorrow or Sunday.”

Solas smiled. Dorian had been a little off in his estimation, it seemed.

Alana came back in, gesturing towards her face.

“Leave it, Alana. Put any more makeup on it and you’ll be sculpting a whole new eyeball.”

She sighed heavily. “I just, I don’t want anyone to think you beat me or something. But I also don’t really want to tell the story. ‘I got beat up by a student in a club I was visiting. He cried after.’”

“You overestimate how many people are going to care. We’ll be in the city. People won’t know who you are or care, really.”

“I guess. I just really don’t need to give the Board another reason to slander me.”

Solas set her sandwich on the table and kissed her hair. “What did I say about the Board?”

“Right, right, today I’m not allowed to talk about them.”

“You need to leave work at work today. Today is about art.”

“Today is about those goddamn squares and paint drips. Got it,” she said mockingly, taking a bite out of her egg.

The long drive that morning was filled with music. He found that she liked quite a wide variety of music. She protested that she was a punk at heart and yet when she was searching through the radio channels she stopped on a pop song, singing the lyrics loudly and off-key. Solas couldn’t stop himself from joining in at the few parts he knew- her spirit was contagious. The moment he matched his voice to hers she whipped her head, hair flying to look at him. He was not much better than her, he knew, but the way her eyes lit up at his tenor made making a fool of himself worthwhile.

They entered the city, the skyscrapers towering above Solas’s tiny car. He maneuvered around the narrow side streets, looking for a parking garage. Alana pulled out her phone and did a quick search of the area, giving him directions to a eight-dollar-all-day garage. They decided that the mile and a half trek to the museum was worth the price.

The busy streets of the city bustled with energy and mass. Bodies flowed around them, Solas holding onto Alana’s hand tight. Taxis honked at them from the side of the road, buses roared past, a quiet bell sound trailing behind them. People chattered around them, some into phones, others into Bluetooth or earbuds. Homeless punctuated every nook and cranny of the buildings they passed and if he hadn’t been holding so tightly onto Alana he had no doubt she’d be giving them money. After, he promised himself, she could help them after.

Brightly lit displays in the store windows promised to make them beautiful, stronger, richer. Alana did not dwell much on them. They both had been to the city before and knew how to combat its allure. Yet when they passed a multilevel bookstore, she stopped.

“Alana-“

“After?” she asked. She stared up at the windows, shelves of books towering in the windows, people milling in front of them, at tables, drinking coffee. The lights from inside shone in her eyes and Solas felt a pang of regret.

“After. I promise.”

Alana broke her trance and smiled at him, a full, excited smile. “Alright.”

The art museum towered, its neoclassical architecture standing apart from the Chase Bank across from it. Across its lawn signs and sculptures advertised the exhibits and the gardens. The gardens would be closing soon, he thought. The chill in the air had finally turned some of the leaves.

The crowds of people thinned as they entered the museum. An attendant asked for payment and Solas showed his membership card. He had never used his guest passes before- he negotiated with the clerk and got three of his normal guest passes traded for an all inclusive one day pass. The entire museum was open to them.

“A membership?” Alana whispered.

“I am not the greatest artist, nor an amazing art historian,” he said, “But I appreciate all of it.”

“I bet Blackwall would kill for an exclusive pass.”

“Perhaps you should gift him one when everything is over.”

They meandered through the halls. Solas took her through his favorite sections first- the ancient civilization’s art. African statues, Chinese terra-cotta- he rambled, not really lecturing Alana but barely having a conversation. Alana would smile, ask questions, and he would excitedly answer in length. After one too many rambles in the Mesopotamian section, she kissed him. Facts and dates scattered to the wind as he touched her lips. Afterwards, his rambling slowed.

They touched on the Renaissance briefly. Solas had much less to say and both had less interest. Instead of looking at the paintings, he looked at her. She wore her reading glasses to be able to read the placards explaining and dating pieces. Whenever she read, her eyes narrowed and she slouched forward. When she looked at a work, though, her head would tilt back, eyes wide, taking the entirety of the piece in. Solas watched her from across the room, her slow footsteps echoing in the empty spaces, her gaze fixated on a piece, one hand absently tucking back a stray lock of hair. He was enraptured.

They made their way past the Van Goghs and the Gauguins to their destination. No signs alerted them to their sudden presence in the Abstract Expressionist gallery. They walked through an open arch and a Jackson Pollock painting, nine feet tall greeted them.

Solas searched Alana for a reaction. She did not smile, did not mock the ‘paint drippings’. Her eyes followed the motions of the paint, circling back on other colors. He allowed her some time to process.

“It’s so much different than seeing it in a book,” she finally said, “I appreciate its beauty much more but I still don’t quite understand it. Besides its beauty, what is there?”

Solas smiled, a hand on her back, gently leading her closer. “The abstract expressionists were all aiming for different things when they made their art. Pollock, I believe, aimed to make art about _making_ art. It certainly has aesthetic- but you also know that _he himself_ ran along the edges of the paper, letting the paint drip from his brush in a half-deliberate, half-untamed manner.”

Alana nodded, brow furrowed, concentrating as she passed a second Pollock. Pollock was accessible, though. His real goal was Rothko.

“Now, the squares,” he said pointing a bit further ahead, “The squares and rectangles? That’s Rothko. He was interested in how different color associations make the viewer feel certain emotions. “

“So Blue and black equals sad or something?”

“No- he never explicitly said which combinations meant what. Every person in the world has a different association with the color blue. A person could be happy, reminded of the sea. Another person could be mad, reminded of a blue shirt that their father used to wear.”

They drew closer to the Rothko, the giant watercolor rectangles towering over their heads. It was a yellow and orange painting, a bench sat just in front of it. Solas sat, staring up at it. Alana continued standing, walking closer.

“So they’re for the viewer to project their feelings?”

“In short, yes.”

She stood small, the painting encompassing her small form, the top of her head not even reaching the second rectangle.

“What do you feel, Solas?”

He hesitated. Every time he ventured to the museum he would sit in front of this piece, asking the same thing. Usually he felt a longing, something missing. Now as she stood surrounded in full by the painting with her back to him, something rose in his chest, the longing transformed into an ache of happiness, joy, and yet-

“I love you.”

Alana spun around to look at him and he almost regretted it. Guilt nagged at the back of his brain, unable to leave but he had said it anyway, said it freely. Perhaps too soon.

But Alana’s face told a different story.

He stood to meet her as she rushed to him on the bench, her eyes glistening and a pained smile on her face. She buried herself in his chest, arms around his neck. Solas smiled, stroking her hair.

“That wasn’t too soon, was it?” he asked nervously. She still had not said anything.

A watery laugh met his fears. “No, Solas. I’ve been too scared to say it for the same reason.”

“So-?”

“I love you, too.”

Solas chuckled, rubbing her back. He looked up at the Rothko, basking in its warm light. He sent off a silent thank you to Mark Rothko and began wiping away Alana’s tears with warm kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my name is ccbgb and my favorite past time is going to art museums and crying about rectangles  
> A little history about Mark Rothko- everything Solas said about the paintings is true but he neglected to mention the sheer empathy that Rothko possessed. He was depressed, an alcoholic, probably not a very nice man in person, but he felt emotions deeply and was able to convey said emotions usually with 2 or 3 rectangles of color. He used watercolors and painted them with rags so it was a very laborious process, so literal sweat and tears are probs in those paintings (cuz they are huuuuge). He had a aneurysm which led to him being told not to paint paintings bigger than a yard. Within 2 years of that aneurysm he committed suicide due to lots of different things (depression, wife leaving him, possible seizures in the aftermath of the aneurysm).   
> I have a lot of feelings about Rothko and his work so I felt like if there was a chapter to get the confession out this would be it. Yay!


	34. Guilt

The artwork now took second place to Alana’s hand in his. She led him now, entering any and every room that caught her attention. Solas instead focused on the way her hand wrapped firmly in his, her thumb tapping an unknown rhythm on his. He focused on how she would glance back at him, her entire face radiating excitement. Every glance now meant so much more. Every brush of their shoulders, every excited exclamation about a painting, every smile. He thought his chest might explode from the upwelling of joy that had appeared in the last few hours.

Alana’s steps began slowing. Solas consulted his watch- they had been in the museum nearly four hours.

“Tired?” he asked, rubbing his thumb along hers.

She nodded, a smile never leaving her lips. “Hungry, too.”

Solas leaned in, hovering. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you lunch.”

The sparks between them were different now- less lust and more _passion_. Solas restrained a shiver but goose bumps crawled across his skin unbidden as she looked at him, her lips parting in the way he loved so much.

She pulled away, her smile sly. The beast purred, satiated by the mere acknowledgement that she wanted him.

They merged back into the crowds of the city sidewalks. The weather had taken a turn- the bright fall sunshine had disappeared behind dark clouds threatening rain. The shining light of the tri-level bookstore beckoned them from two blocks down. They picked up their pace as the wind howled through the gaps between the buildings. Neither of them had brought a coat.

The first drop of rain hit Solas’s ear and he resigned himself to getting soaked. The drop had been fat and wet, no little sprinkle. He looked at Alana just as she turned towards him. Before either of them could open their mouths, rain began hitting the pavement with harsh splats.

A grin spread across Alana’s face as she said, “Run!” and they were off.

They ran, hands still entwined, laughing, weaving through people putting up hoods and opening umbrellas. They raced across the congested street, a few horns following their path. The light of the bookstore neared, as did the bookstore’s canopy. Once underneath they finally stopped, catching their breath and giggling. Rain poured around them outside the canopy, grumpy walkers hailing the influx of taxis on the streets.

Solas did his best to wring out his shirtsleeves as he watched Alana wring out the skirt of her dress. She ran a hand through her wet hair, plastering all stray locks to her scalp. He smiled as she finished. They rejoined hands and entered the bookstore.

“I believe the café is on the second floor,” he said, basking in the warm yellow light.

They began walking to the stairs and she asked, “Do you know what they serve?”

“Coffee and sandwiches, probably.”

He wasn’t wrong. The café boasted several different fancy coffee drinks and cold sandwiches as well as selections of baked goods. Their order placed, they found a table near a heating vent. Alana sighed in pleasure as the heat dried her legs.

Solas heard their number called and grabbed their food. When he came back, Alana was looking out the window at the rain. A smile had rarely left her face all day.

“Is there anything here you’re looking for?” Solas asked, tilting his head towards the shelves of books.

Alana shook her head, taking a bite of her pumpkin bread. “I rarely go into bookstores with anything in mind. I just like browsing and being surrounded by words. And this place is so huge, it’s so exciting!”

Solas sipped his coffee and nodded.

“Do you have anything you want to buy, Solas?”

He set his coffee down and looked around at the stacks briefly. “Not particularly. I might browse the history section.”

Alana’s posture changed suddenly. “Wait!” she said, “I do have something in mind! Let me buy you a book, Solas.”

“Alright,” he laughed, somewhat surprised by her excitement, “What book?”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “You’re going to embarrassed, I know. Maybe a little put off. But it’s important to me.”

Something heavy sat in the pit of his stomach.

“I want you to read ‘Faded for Her’, ok?” she said, her blush intensifying, “So I’m going to buy you a copy.”

Solas’s heart dropped. The brightness of the day dimmed, as if a fog had suddenly descended upon them. Rain battered the window beside them.

Alana took his silence for disbelief and continued to explain, “I know it’s silly, I’m sorry, I just, I made this promise to myself that if I cared a lot about someone that I’d make them read it. I’m sorry, maybe it’s a stupid idea…”

Solas snapped back into focus, trying to shove his guilt and shock aside. Alana’s smile had disappeared completely in embarrassment. Regardless of his guilt she didn’t deserve to feel like he was uncaring about her interests.

“It’s not stupid,” he said, quickly, “I just…” He struggled for an excuse for her not to buy it. He refused to watch her give him money for a book he knew, hated, so intimately. She looked up, her blush dissipating as she waited for his answer.

“I just don’t want you to spend money on that. You own more than one copy, right? I can always just borrow one of yours, if you’re okay with that.”

Alana’s face cleared, relaxed. “Yeah, of course! That way if you don’t like it you don’t have it laying around.”

She sipped at her coffee, looking away and Solas took the moment to control his breathing. Alana would ask him his opinion on the book. _I could always lie_ , he thought but as she looked back at him, a smile reappearing he thought of her standing in front of the Rothko. _God, I can’t._

Paper crumpled and he focused his attention back to the present.

“I’m going to look around.”

“I will also,” he said, “Where should I meet you?”

“Downstairs in an hour?”

“Of course.”

Alana stood and kissed his forehead. “See you around, stud.”

Solas returned her smile the best he could before she left. He watched her retreating form melt into the stacks. With reluctance, he stood and gathered their trash on their table.

He wandered the stacks, unable to focus. It was just like karma to remind him of his secret when he had finally forgotten his guilt. Shame twisted itself into knots in his chest, his breaths tight and uncomfortable.

On the third floor he passed a row of books, catching a figure out of the corner of his eye. He did a double take, his body hidden by a display. There she was, two shelves down, sitting on the floor, a book in hand. Her thumb hand lodged itself between her teeth, the other hand holding the book with the help of her curled up knees.

Solas rounded the shelves, hiding. His hand drug across his face.

He loved her but the lies had already started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Announcement! I've decided to do a short fic giveaway and I figured since you all read this you might be interested? If not that's ok, but here's the link! 
> 
> http://iwarnedyouabouthosestairsbro.tumblr.com/post/113466596420/short-story-fanfic-giveaway-i-often-do-prompts


	35. Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Explicit Content in this Chapter

That night they lay in his bed, the wind howling, lightning casting harsh shadows against the walls. The sheets tangled between their legs, trapping each of them in the other’s warm embrace.

He kissed her cool skin, the rain throwing beautiful, dripping shadows across her bare body. Every crack of thunder, every tree branch snapping set his nerves ablaze again. It was different. Everything was different.

Those three little words in the art museum tainted every bit of his body, magnified every inch of her skin. He whispered them against her breasts; she mouthed it while sucking at his neck. Neither of them could hear the other saying it. The storm outside silenced their confessions.

Solas refused to feel guilt. Instead he channeled it all into the Beast, saliva dripping from its jaws. It growled, hungry and aggressive, feeding off his lies. Solas saw her in the bookstore, red-faced and embarrassed, baring her soul. Darkness dripped off his tongue and the Beast snapped, snarling and tearing at his abdomen. In the darkness of his bedroom with one of the last storms of the season raging outside, Solas and the Beast became one with one last, “I love you.”

He straddled Alana, pinning her arms down. His permission had already been granted and the way her hips bucked to greet him solidified it. He transferred both of her wrists to one of his hands, holding them down on the bed above her. His other hand began working her clit.

Her moans and silent screams were lost in a bout of thunder. Lightning illuminated her face, her teeth clenched, sweat dripping down past her hairline. She was close, so close, and then he stopped. Alana opened her eyes, pleading for him to finish. The Beast drooled.

“Solas-“

Her breath hitched, her legs and arms trapped, unable to satisfy herself. Her hips rolled, looking for some way to release her pent up energy. She found nothing.

“Solas-“

“What?” The Beast asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Alana stilled beneath him, breathing hard. The Beast licked his lips in anticipation, every nerve of his body on fire.

“Please.”

He teased her entrance, his own breath shuddering at the touch. He grabbed her thigh, digging his nails in. Alana moaned.

“Solas,” she whimpered, “Please.”

Thunder shook the house as he thrust himself inside of her, both of them eliciting soft screams. The Beast threw her thigh straight into the air and thrusted, his face caressing her calf. Alana’s eyes were closed once more, her entire body rocking with pleasure. Now they were both close, they were both there, they could both-

The Beast stopped.

He released her wrists and her thigh allowing them to relax, moving his hands instead to her breasts. He lay nearly on top of her, his face hovering above hers, their noses brushing past one another. His fingers teased her breasts, her hands moved to grab his back. The Beast was careful not to remove himself from inside of her. Alana pushed her forehead to meet his.

He bit at her lip, his fingers twisting. Her gasp sent goose bumps across his naked skin. Alana’s nails trailed along his spine, his shoulder blades, and he could barely take it any longer. The Beast would wait, though. He would wait as long as it took.

He did not have to wait long.

“Please.”

He thrust, his feet cramping, his body aching for release. Alana’s nails dug into his back and soon they were close, closer, there-

His mind blanked, silent screams choked in his throat. Ecstasy. Skin. Sweat. Rain.

Solas exited and rolled over to collapse beside her. Rain battered the windows. The Beast was gone. For now.

What was left was his guilt. Exhausted and empty there was nowhere else for his lies to go. They seeped into his soul like the rain drenching the soil outside.

And there she was, like lightning.

Her kisses on his head, her kisses on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Thunder rumbled. His conscience shook like a dying leaf in the wind. I love you, I love you, I love you. Nails in his back. The Beast’s maw dripping. I love you, I love you, I love you.  
  
Please.


	36. Fog

The morning light filtered lazily through the fogged windows. Solas’s skin was chilled and he pulled the comforter up to his chin. For the first time this season he realized he’d have to turn on the heat.

As he curled into the blanket he noticed the empty bedspace beside him. He rubbed his half-open eyes, brain not fully functioning just yet. Someone had beside him in the night. Yellow eyes burned into his brain. No. Not her. The other.

The microwave dinged from far away.

Not gone, then. Solas’s eyes drifted closed once more, the comforter’s fluff surrounding him in a cocoon. His body was keeping him from thinking clearly. Defense mechanism? He wasn’t sure he cared. All he cared was that he was warm, comfortable, and she hadn’t disappeared.

Soft footsteps echoed in the quiet house. A small metallic noise, a shuffling of silverware sliding on a tray followed the footsteps. Solas reluctantly opened his eyes again, facing the door to the bedroom. Within seconds her lithe form appeared, a tray in her hands, something steaming hot on top of it.

“Good morning,” she said, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. “I can’t find your thermostat. So I made you hot food.”

Solas sat up, his throat too thick to speak, opting for a smile of gratitude. Alana set the tray down in front of him before climbing into bed herself, pulling the comforter to cover her legs. Her feet brushed against his legs and he made the effort to catch one, pinning it between his calves.

His legs spasmed as they came in contact with Alana’s foot. He coughed, clearing his throat of gunk to speak. Alana laughed.

“You’re freezing!” he finally spat out.

“I really did try to find your thermostat!”

“You could have woken me.”

“But you looked so comfortable.”

In front of him there sat two bowls of hot oatmeal, cinnamon sugar sprinkled over top. He wrapped an arm around Alana, kissing her forehead quickly.

“Also didn’t expect you to cook.”

“I’ll admit,” she offered, “It took me awhile to find something I could actually make.”

“I appreciate it.”

They ate in silence, moisture thickening and dripping down the inside of the windows. Solas reached over, one fingernail sketching the bowl of oatmeal into the condensation.

“Why the oatmeal?” Alana asked, watching.

“Habit. I sketch what I see.”

Alana set her bowl down, reaching over Solas’s body to use her finger on the window. Solas let her body brush against his, her scent washing over him. He laid one hand on her back, comforted by her closeness.

She leaned back, smiling. Solas looked at what she had drawn and laughed. A rudimentary picture of him, his large ears poking out of his head, dots for eyes, and a smirk on his face. The water droplets on the edge of the lines she had drawn were dripping, the combined volume sending them down the window in lines. The drawing of him looked like it was melting.

“Wonderful,” he applauded.

“A masterpiece. It shall be hung in the Louvre.”

“Curators will travel from land and sea, begging for a tour.”

Alana laughed, “It shall sell for millions! We’ll be rich!”

Solas’s laugh cracked as he remembered his bank account. Book sales had left him with more money than he knew what to do with. He technically was rich. And he had yet to do the movie deal. Six digits.

He began cleaning up the remnants of breakfast, taking the tray to the kitchen. On the way he stopped by his study to hit the thermostat. He turned on the heat somewhat reluctantly, the corner of his eye catching Alana looking into the room at him. When he went to meet her gaze, however, he found her staring at the paintings.

“Do you want to see them for longer than a minute, this time?” he offered.

“Oh yes, Solas, please!” The word ‘please’ sent a shiver down his spine. “It will be like a second trip to the art museum,” she joked.

“Give me one moment, then,” he said, taking the tray back into the hallway, heading for the kitchen. As he ran the sink, rinsing the dishes, the fear of her being left alone in the study crept upon him. He had returned the Beast painting to the study a few nights before. It was facing backwards towards a bookcase at least. Regardless, his fingers shook as he rushed to rinse out the bowls. The damned _book_ was on the floor in there somewhere too.

He dropped the bowl with a loud _clank_.

“You alright in there?” she called out.

“Yes, be there in a moment.”

He gave up on the dishes and walked briskly to the study. Inside she was staring up at a painting of a white stag, its antlers long and twisted. A wolf hovered behind it in the darkness, green eyes glinting. She turned towards him as he came in, wearing on of his undershirts that reached her mid-thigh.

“These are beautiful, Solas. Where did you learn to paint?”

Solas entered the room, eyes glancing quickly at the back of the Beast painting. It had not been turned or disturbed. He breathed a sigh of relief before replying.

“University. I took it as an extracurricular and ended up loving it. Took an art minor afterwards.”

“So you graduated with a History degree, special emphasis on Ancient Civilizations, with an art minor?”

“Correct.”

“And you’ve also written books on history,” she said less as a question and more as a statement.

“A few.”

“So not only are you amazing at your job,” she said, a small laugh escaping, “But you also paint well, write well, and cook well. What the hell.”

Solas laughed, “Should I be apologizing?”

“Maybe you should be apologizing to your social life.”

“Not anymore,” he admitted, chuckling, “I’ve barely done any of these things, lately.”

Alana’s smile vanished, worried. “I hope I’m not stopping you from doing the hobbies you enjoy.”

“You make me happier than all of these hobbies combined, Alana. Do not worry or apologize.”

Alana was not convinced. She stared at the painting of the white stag, thumb lodged between her teeth. Her forehead scrunched in thought and Solas admired the small knot that appeared between her eyebrows. Her concentrated silence persisted for several seconds before Solas intervened.

“Would you like a painting?”

Her eyes widened, face relaxing. “No, I couldn’t- I wouldn’t want- Not like that I just-“

“Not one of these,” he clarified, “Something new.”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

Solas shook his head, “Not necessary.”

“But the materials, the time-“

Solas leaned in and kissed her. The Sunday morning dew had lifted into a dense fog outside the window. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted _Faded for Her_ peeking out from under his desk. He pulled back, taking her head in his hands.

“Any requests?”

Alana giggled, shaking her head.

“Expect it within the month.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if these dont go up with the consistency of last week- Spring Break is over :(


	37. Burns

The book sat on the table where he had tossed it. It seemed to stare at him, it’s aura following him around the room. Nowhere in the house was safe. Its presence was a fog, snaking through every room Solas entered, obscuring his thoughts with its coffee stained spine and dog-eared pages. The curling script of the title wrapped itself around his throat. _You can’t ignore me now_.

He had dropped her off at her house and she had jumped out with a breathless, “Wait here!” He had waited, confused and anxious, car running in her drive. She had run back out with it hugged against her chest and his heart dropped to his feet.

“Almost forgot,” she had said, “Here. I promised I’d let you borrow a copy.”

Her breath had puffed out around her head, quiet smoke dissipating as she held out the well-worn copy of his book.

“Right,” he had choked out, “Thank you.”

Now it sat on his coffee table, mocking him. Solas escaped to the study to prepare a canvas for Alana’s painting. He cut the canvas, the stretching bars already primed. As he carefully began stapling the canvas to the wood, the book seemed to call out once more.

_She’s going to ask, you know._

Solas bit his lower lip, stapling slowly and methodically. He would not think about this tonight. He refused to.

The canvas stretched, he began applying the sizing onto the canvas. He did not know why oils were his first choice- their expense, their drying, their prep- all expensive and time consuming. Solas made a mental note to check his oil paints before starting. He was unsure how much red he had left after the Beast painting. No doubt another trip to Michael’s was in his future.

_Not that money matters to you anyway._

His hand hesitated over the canvas for a moment as the thought crossed his mind. Perhaps a little contemplation would satiate his guilt.

Yes, he was more than well off from book sales. He held his job because he enjoyed it. He did not buy a new house because he did not _need_ a new house. Money made things easy enough- all student loans had been repaid, his home was paid in full, as was his car, and he had a nice investment portfolio making him imaginary money that he would one day sell. He did not want for anything. That did not make him a liar by any means. His personal finances were his own business.

The book remained silent. Solas continued with the sizing.

The first coat of glue complete, Solas went to plug in the hair dryer. It whirred to life and he began moving it slowly across the canvas, watching the discoloration spread to the bits of canvas that weren’t yet dry. The smell made him want to open a window but the soft _tick-tick_ of the heating vents reminded him that that was unwise. The temperature had been perpetually stuck all day, the sun’s rays weak in the near-barren trees. Winter loomed in the future like a large, grey snow cloud.

_In chapter 24 you killed the protagonist’s brother in the winter. Died in an outhouse. You laughed when you wrote it. I wonder how she felt._

His knuckles burned white against the hairdryer. It _was_ a joke. Never had a romance novel set in the past gotten the suddenness of death correctly. A winter storm came; the man got stuck in the outhouse. Solas had been proud of killing off a proportionate amount of characters realistic to the time period. He had also had fun with a few- what of it?

_You did it to mock her._

Solas dropped the hairdryer, quickly dropping to his knees to pick it up. In his scramble to pick up the still-moving object, his finger grazed the opening. He hissed, pulling his already reddening finger away. With his other hand he grabbed the cord and yanked it from the wall. The whirring of the hairdryer puttered out.

That thought had gone too far. What was in the past, stayed in the past. She had nothing to do with his situation with Alana.

_You mocked her, will you not mock Alana?_

“ _Shut up_ ,” he hissed as he walked into the bathroom, running his finger under cold water in the faucet. His finger was red but not blistering. There were small things to be thankful for, at least.

Solas gently dried his finger and stood at the door of his study. The canvas sat there, half dry, the hairdryer lying like a dead creature on the floor. He sighed heavily, his entire chest caving. He couldn’t finish prep right now.

He walked hesitantly into the living room, eyeing the book on the table. The cover was ripped on one corner, the other corner severely bent. The whole book was scarred by fold lines, lines of continuous wear from being opened, shoved into a purse, left laying open with the spine in the air to keep Alana’s place. Solas sat on the couch, facing it down. He didn’t know why he hesitated to open it, it was just a copy of the book, but dread oozed out of his pores. He reached one hand out to grab it; defiant and yet still worried he’d get burned.

The book smelled faintly of coffee and moth rot. It was definitely an older copy. He sat back, flipping through the pages. There was water damage, stains, dog-ears, rips, pages grasping onto the spine with one last breath. Worst of all, he noticed, there was blue pen.

Frowny faces, smiley faces, passages underlined and boxed. Exclamation points after chapter breaks, little notes written in the margins.

Near the end there was a passage blocked, underlined, surrounded by exclamation points. The protagonist’s mother was speaking to the protagonist, whether harshly or as a warning, he never had really decided. His heart stopped.

_“_ _There are few regrets sharper than watching fools squander what you sacrificed to achieve.”_

Solas threw the book down on the couch. Without a thought to the time or the projects he left half-finished, he retreated to his bedroom to sleep. The book did not call out anymore. It had accomplished what it had set out to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry for the long wait. Dear lord its been such a terrible week. In other news, yay even more hints about this dumb book!


	38. Bad Day

Another Monday, another lunch.

It was difficult for Solas to focus. Too many voices, too many faces. Alana’s face shone like a beacon from down the table. He longed to sit beside her, rub his knee against hers, anything to reassure himself that she was _there_. He caught her eye and she smiled, her warmth radiating towards him. The knot in his chest loosened its grip on his heart. She loved him. What else did he need?

“Alana, dear, I’ve made you an appointment,” Vivienne said, pulling Alana’s attention, “This coming Saturday at nine. My tailor is just dying to meet you.”

“Am I still required to participate in this event?” Cassandra scoffed. Solas noticed that whatever melancholy had plagued her last week persisted. Alana switched her gaze to Cassandra, eyes soft. Solas admired the affect they seemed to have on the Sheriff.

Cassandra sighed and grumbled, “Very well.”

“I do believe you’re due for some shopping, Ms. Pentaghast,” Vivienne reassured her, “I’m sure your boyfriend would appreciate it.”

The slouch that Cassandra had been in suddenly disappeared, her back straight and commanding once more. “I do not-“ she began to protest.

“You don’t but you do,” Cole spoke up, nearly silencing the group, “He’s a thorn in the rose you desperately crave. Why don’t you-“

“Kid-“ Varric interrupted, grabbing Cole’s shoulder.

Cole opened his mouth to say something to Varric but the screeching of Cassandra’s chair stopped him. Alana began to stand as well but Dorian grabbed her arm.

“I’m leaving.”

“Cassandra-“ Alana pleaded.

The sheriff nearly ran to the doors of the Deli. Silence fell over the group and Solas watched Alana carefully. She had not taken her eyes off the door but as soon as Cassandra’s figure had disappeared she immediately glared at Varric. He looked over to Varric and saw genuine distress on the man’s face as he looked out the window.

“Well, would anyone like to wrap up the Sheriff’s food and bring it to her later?” Josephine said in an all-too-chipper voice.

“I will,” Alana said, reaching a hand out for the food. Vivienne grabbed the basket of food and handed it to her with slow movements. As Alana wrapped the half-eaten sandwich there was no sound but the harsh crinkling of paper.

Across from Solas, Cullen cleared his throat, a hand going to the back of his neck. Josephine held a small smile on her lips, her eyes betraying her stress over the tenseness of the situation. Even Sera and Iron Bull were silent, eating their food and waggling their eyebrows at each other. Everyone was uncomfortable.

“I apologize for mentioning it,” Vivienne said comfortably, “I did not mean to cause such a scene.”

“You blame me,” Cole said. Vivienne raised her eyes and fixed him with a cold stare.

“Perhaps.”

“Enough,” Alana interrupted, “There is plenty of blame to go around. I suggest we put it out of our minds for now.”

“Indeed,” Dorian offered, “We can certainly keep Sheriff Pentaghast in our thoughts, but lets not let it ruin our lunch.”

Talk began slowly, starting with Sera and Bull. Sera threw a grape and it hit Bull’s chin. A snort of laughter and the group began to relax once more.

Blackwall began speaking with Josephine. It was certainly a scene to behold- Blackwall very rarely initiated conversation but when he did, Josephine’s face lit up and her smile became genuine. Dorian and Vivienne were engaged in an animated conversation about what would look best on Alana when she went to the tailor. Alana was silent, occasionally looking up to glare at Varric. Varric and Cole were both quiet, Cole trying to talk and Varric holding up a hand and shaking his head.

“What do you make of this all, Professor?”

Solas looked across from him to Leliana. She was looking at him again, staring, searching. Trying to read him again.

“Well,” he said slowly, “It seems like we have some personal relationships forming in our small party. Whether or not they're healthy seems up for debate.”

“Indeed, Professor?” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. Damn. She thought he was speaking of him and Alana.

Was he?

Before he could reply, Cullen was tugging at Leliana’s sleeve. Leliana looked at where Rutherford was pointing and her entire body went stiff.

“I suppose today we shall have no rest,” she muttered.

Solas dread looking behind him. What was happening now?

The bell on the door behind them jingled happily as someone walked in. Multiple footsteps echoed through the Deli. The group hushed quickly, turning to look at the newcomers.

Standing outrageously tall was a man in a suit, hair slicked back, face red and lined. Beside him were two other men in suits, ID badges hanging beside their lapels. The two men behind the man approached the counter, speaking quietly to the cashier. The cashier immediately began looking towards Sera for help.

Alana, catching wind of Leliana’s caution, stood and put on her public face. She walked towards the tall man, heels clicking, arm outstretched to shake his hand.

“Alana Lavellan, Acting President of the university across the way,” she introduced herself, a smile plastered on her face, “Can I help you today?”

The man took her hand in his, his grip so tight that Solas saw Alana’s skin go white where he gripped. Solas restrained himself from standing. Anger welled in his chest, bright and blinding. He felt Blackwall’s hand on his arm, holding him steady. Alana had not so much as blinked at the harsh grip.

“Sethius Amladaris, Ms. Lavellan. Candidate for President of the university.”

Alana’s smile did not falter. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

“Ah yes,” Amladaris said gesturing with his free hand towards the two men behind him. One of the men had gone around the counter and was in the kitchen. Someone was yelling profanities in the back. “I decided to come with my trusted friend Samson to check the facilities. We’re doing routine safety code inspections in the area and I thought I might check on this building you and your associates are so fond of congregating in.”

Alana had not been able to escape his grip. Her smile remained natural-looking but her shoulders were tense. Solas flexed against Blackwall’s grip but the man didn’t falter in holding him still.

The man came out from the back, crooked teeth flashing in a crooked grin. “Mr. Amladaris, sir, faulty wiring through the whole place. A few exposed outlets. Fire extinguisher was obstructed as well.”

“Oh dear,” Amladaris said turning his attention back to Alana, “It seems you’ve been meeting in a very unsafe building. It may have to be shut down until the owners can fix the wiring problem. Samson, give them their notice.”

“That’s a load of shite and you know it!” Sera yelled, standing. Varric pulled her back into her chair, whispering false comforts.

Josephine stood, walking towards Sethius and Alana. “Mr. Amladaris, sir, surely there is nothing here so dangerous that it must be shut down. I’m sure we can come to an agreement or-“

“I would not attempt to parley with me, Ms. Montilyet. It is pure luck that your Sheriff friend was not here otherwise I could have had her written up for negligence. She did eat here on duty.”

Josephine opened her mouth to respond but a quick look from Alana made her close it with a soft _click_. Beside Solas, Blackwall was suddenly gripping his arm much harder. Rage boiled in both of their bellies.

“I do believe this is our cue to get out of this dangerous establishment,” Alana projected so that it was clear she was speaking to the group. With her voice lower, she addressed Amladaris: “Thank you. You may have saved us from experiencing a kitchen fire. We appreciate your concern for our safety.”

“It was my pleasure,” he responded, giving Alana’s hand one more squeeze before finally releasing her. With a tilt of his head, the man’s associates followed him out the door. The bell jingled as the door slammed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their happiness couldn't last long... Coryphe-ass had to show up eventually!


	39. Aftermath

Solas and Blackwall stood. Alana shook out her hand, hissing at the pain. Sera let out a feral scream of rage as she went to go check on the employees. Josephine sat down at the nearest table, face in her hands and Blackwall stood behind her, hands on her shoulders.

Solas nearly ran over to Alana, grabbing her hand and examining it. A bruise was already forming on her wrist. He grit his teeth to keep the rage from exploding outwards.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” she said, taking her arm back. He looked at her, her eyes downcast and calculating. The black eye she had tried so hard to conceal Saturday was now completely disguised under makeup. Soon her wrist would match her eye. The thought made Solas dig his nails into his palms.

Leliana suddenly appeared at Alana’s side. “I’ve checked the back. The wiring is off-code. We obviously were ignorant of this but he’ll do his best to make it look like we were spending our time in a slum.”

“How did he know that, though?” Alana spat, frustrated, “He even had a plan to write a citation to Cassandra. How could he know so much information?”

“I believe Sera is investigating that currently.” As soon as the words left Leliana’s lips, a crash resounded from the back of the kitchen. Profanities were streaming from Sera’s mouth so loudly they could hear exactly what she thought of the snitch’s mother.

“These gatherings aren’t exactly a secret,” Leliana reaffirmed, “But he obviously had one of those people checking for anything they could get to shut the place down. The wiring is complicated but the actual problem is barely noticeable. You have to remove a panel in the storeroom to even see that a few of the wires are crossed.”

“So he’s been planning this for a while.”

“Yes.”

Alana flexed her hand as she thought. Sera’s screaming and the crashes of her throwing pans were the only noise. Solas saw Bull head to the back, presumably to keep Sera from killing the kid.

“We need to meet somewhere he can’t touch. Public. Loud,” Alana finally said, looking at Leliana, “Somewhere he doesn’t have any authority whatsoever.”

“The school’s dining hall!” Josephine suggested, sitting up suddenly, “It could help solve several problems at once!”

Leliana nodded in understanding. Alana’s eyebrows furrowed, that little knot reappearing above her nose.

“Everything is to code, no one can really hear us unless we want them to, and kids will be able to sit and eat with us, ask us questions, you gain a presence!” Josephine explained. Alana’s face did not change.

“We’d all have to be very careful,” she said, “We can’t have incidents like we did today with Cassandra. Here we had at least some privacy. That wont happen in a dining hall.”

“Then everyone gets warned,” Josephine said, glancing at Cole.

Alana nodded and her face finally relaxed. “Let’s gather up the food and get out of here. And for the love of all that’s holy, stop Sera before she breaks everything in the kitchen.”

Everyone began moving but Solas couldn’t stay silent any longer. He reached out and grabbed Alana’s shoulder, turning her towards him.

“Solas, what is it? What’s wrong?” she asked. He still had little composure. His mouth opened and closed in frustration as he struggled to find the words.

Finally he managed, “I will not let him touch you ever again.”

Alana gave him a small smile, wary of everyone around them, not all of which who knew. She wrapped her hand around his and squeezed gently.

“Thank you, Solas. I can handle myself, though.”

Solas sat down in the nearest chair, exhausted and aggravated, watching Alana wrap up her sandwich and grab Cassandra’s. Varric went up to her and they whispered, arguing over one of the baskets of food. Solas caught Alana saying, “You’re the last person who should be bringing this to her.” Varric shook his head and waved her off. The English professor walked out, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. Alana gathered the food and walked back towards Solas.

“I’m going to go give this to Cassandra. If you’d like to come with, you’re welcome to.”

“I do not think that wise,” he said, his voice still warbling with leftover rage, “She will prefer your company but may be uncomfortable with mine.”

“Alright.” Alana looked around quickly before planting a quick kiss on Solas’s head. “Love you.”

His rage quieted at her words and a small smile managed to climb its way onto his face. “Love you as well.”

Alana smiled and left the Deli. Slowly the group began leaving in twos and threes. The Iron Bull had pulled Sera out of the kitchen, red and struggling. Now they walked out together with Blackwall and Josephine, Sera still raging. Solas stood to follow. He noticed a presence at his shoulder.

“You didn’t listen to me,” Cole complained, “You’re stone, just like Varric. I try to help and you didn’t listen.”

“What help was that, Cole?”

“With her. The first day we met you looked at her like glass. You still do.”

“I know she is not fragile, Cole.”

The man grew impatient. “But you don’t. You touch glass and see a different reflection.”

“Cole, can I talk to you for a moment?” Leliana interrupted.

Cole looked at Solas, eyes blank, and turned to Leliana. Solas shook his head and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so cheap for using Cole as foreshadowing and exposition but I just LOVE COLE and the way he talks ugh  
> Also  
> Wow Im getting sad with my side plot. Kinda just want to give Cassandra and Varric their own short fic ahhhhhh (dont do it!! You barely get chapters up every week for this one!!)


	40. Advice

“Everything’s fucked.”

Solas chewed slowly, listening to Alana’s voice crackle over speakerphone. There were a great many pauses in their conversation, the day weighing them down. Solas still had a small flame of anger burning in his belly. The soup that he ate sat funny next to protective fury.

He chose not to answer. He was sure she would explain herself once her thoughts were gathered. Solas continued eating, grading tests.

Sure enough, Alana spoke again: “For the past week I’ve been dealing with infighting in our group. Now I have to deal with more infighting between Josie, Leliana, and Cullen about how to proceed. That doesn’t even cover that Seth asshole, all the paperwork I’m behind in because of the week I spent visiting classrooms, and the Board no doubt looking for ways to play up the Deli scenario.”

Solas put his red pen down for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “It does not do well to dwell on all of these problems at once. They are much more manageable individually.”

Alana’s laughter popped, the hissing of the poor quality speakerphone making her sound like she had swallowed gravel. Solas smiled, imagining her tired face on the other end of the line. “Easy for you to say,” she said, “If you have two one-way tickets out of the country I’d be happy to accept.”

“I apologize, I do not own a beach house in Spain.”

“Damn. And here I thought you were perfect.”

“Hardly,” Solas chuckled. He leaned forward to continue grading when a thought occurred to him. “Alana,” he said, “Let me talk you through it. Perhaps we can figure out some solutions.”

“Alright.”

Silence fizzed across the phone line. Solas retired his red pen to the cup on his desk. Grading could wait.

“Ok, let’s just go in order. The infighting,” Alana finally said.

“Between who?”

She sighed. “Cassandra and Varric have been at it for a week. It’s infuriating.”

“Am I to assume only certain people are to hear about this?”

“Yeah,” Alana admitted, “It’s not really my place to share.”

“Then my advice is to ignore it. Make it painfully clear that if they cannot act civilized in public then don’t be near each other. We cannot afford another situation like today. Especially if we are moving to the school’s dining hall.”

“I suppose.” A pause accentuated her reluctance to let the issue go. “I just wish that I could make them get along. They’re both being so stubborn.”

“You cannot force people together, Alana. Let whatever happened between them get out of their systems and perhaps we can enjoy lunches in peace again.”

“Alright. Josie, Leliana, and Cullen, then.”

Solas looked at his stack of tests, red numbers and slashes blaring against the white test papers. There were reasons he no longer had teaching assistants and the situation that Alana was describing was just one of them. If even one disagreed the entire process of grading grinded to a staggering halt.

“I know they are your friends but it may be best to remind them who the authority is,” Solas offered, “If they can’t agree it’s your job to make the decision and make them agree.”

“I hate forcing my position over them to make them shut up but that may be the only way I’ll get any peace at the office again,” Alana joked.

“Who is the worst?”

“Josie.”

“I am not surprised in the slightest.”

“So, all knowing advisor, what the hell do I do about Sethius I’m-A-Dick-us?”

Solas laughed. “You have been spending too much time with Sera, I think.”

“Is that the official stance?”

Their snickering echoed back in the phone speaker and quickly died out. Solas rubbed his forehead. The clock on the wall read past ten.

“I cannot give you advice on Sethius. You just have to keep trying to win.”

“Fair enough.”

“The Deli situation was unfortunate,” he continued, “But what’s done is done. Who knows, perhaps whatever the Board attempts to skew it as will work in your favor. Until Leliana gets ahold of it there’s not much you can do. As for the paperwork, may I suggest some ibuprofen for your no-doubt pained wrists?”

Alana snorted.

The soup that sat beside the tests was growing cold. Solas reached for it and began slurping it down, ingesting the last of the warmth while he still could. The phone on the desk was silent with Alana’s contemplation. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice as their conversation had continued. She would no doubt be getting ready for bed soon.

“Solas?” Her voice cracked. Solas stopped eating for a moment, simultaneously concerned and interested. When she didn’t immediately continue talking, he set down his bowl.

“Yes, Alana?”

A tense silence fizzed over the phone. Just when Solas was about to ask her again she said, “Thank you. For being here.”

“It’s my pleasure, Alana.”

“See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. At the grand university dining hall, where we shall eat like kings.”

Her laugh eased his worried mind. Any rage that had been left over at the beginning of the conversation had dissipated.

“Tomorrow, then. It’s a date.”

“Of course, my lady.”

She giggled. “Goodnight, Solas.”

“Goodnight, Alana.”

The static disappeared and his phone let out a soft beep to tell him she had hung up. Solas picked up his bowl once more, slurping up the last of the soup. The tests would stay for another night. He grabbed the half-prepared canvas for Alana’s painting and the brush. Solas still didn’t know what he was going to paint her but the mere thought of her made his work ethic return. The burn on his hand stung as he gripped the brush but he paid it no mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I just have to say, "Screw school work, I've been itching to write for a week" and just do it.  
> Might be getting a new job soon which would be very good for updates! But I don't want to jinx it so I'll just do the best I can until then!


	41. Dining Hall

Solas had an inkling that not even Leliana had been prepared for the lunch in the dining hall.

The sheer mass of students was something to behold. Solas had never ventured outside of his department too often and seeing this many students in one place boggled his mind. He searched everyone else’s reactions to be similar- all but Iron Bull who had Krem at his side as Alana’s official student guide. Vivienne stood tall and composed, much like Alana, be even her eyes screamed in fear. None of them had seen so many students in one place.

All but Alana.

Alana strode beside Iron Bull and Krem, calm and composed, asking Krem questions. When they reached the payment checkpoint the student cashier sent another worker off to get a manager. Alana smiled and waited off to the side, allowing confused students to pass, swiping cards to pay for lunch. There were many side-glances and loud whispers.

_Is that the President? Here? Why?_

_She’s not President yet, remember?_

_Why is she eating here?_

_Is that Krem with her? Does Krem know her?_

_Look it’s Professor Tethras! And Madame de Fer!_

A manager appeared, greeting Alana with a somewhat scared and sweaty handshake. Alana smiled her most winning smile and the small man seemed to calm down marginally. He nodded profusely a few times before asking her to follow him to their seats.

Solas did his best to not pay attention to the stares but it was difficult. Beside him, Blackwall was looking at his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Solas put a hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled. Blackwall looked up and gave a thankful stare. Solas patted his back once before letting his hand fall back to his side. No one was really comfortable here. Everyone longed for the Deli.

The manager led them to three tables that had been pushed together with little signs next to each napkin dispenser that read “Reserved”. Solas noticed two student workers with spray bottles and rags in their hands looking nervously at the group. No doubt they had been the ones to clean their table and set it up. One had even found a small vase and put a flower from the gardens outside in it. Solas caught one of the student worker’s eyes and smiled. Their face lit up.

The group settled in, though Varric was markedly farther away from Alana and Cassandra than before. Solas turned, looking at the English professor sitting next to Cullen. He looked miserable and Cullen looked uncomfortable, trying to focus his attention to Leliana instead.

Alana was asking the manager about the procedure of buying food and the manager kept waving her off, trying to refuse her money. Alana insisted, her voice quiet, handing the man her ID badge. She was trying to run a tab with the dining hall so that they could all eat for free.

Beside her, Krem stood, waving at someone at a different table. Solas glanced at the students he was waving to. They looked absolutely terrified. A chuckle escaped his lips. He just couldn’t handle it anymore. Blackwall looked up from his hands and raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone is terrified of us and we are terrified of them. This is ridiculous,” he clarified.

Blackwall looked around them, a slow smile coming to his lips. He began a deep, gurgling chuckle. Leliana caught their conversation and also began assessing the situation. She motioned at Krem. Krem leaned in, letting Leliana whisper quickly into his ear. He nodded and smiled at whatever suggestion she had given and walked from the table towards his friends he had been waving at. Within seconds those students were moving towards the table.

The manager sufficiently chastised into taking Alana’s money walked away and she announced, “It’s an all-you-can-eat. You can get up and grab as you like.”

“You paid ‘em, yeah?” Sera asked.

“Yeah. You’re all set here,” Alana said, smiling, “Don’t worry about it.”

Cassandra was the first to stand and get food. Alana followed. Krem’s friends appeared.

“Grim, Rocky, let’s eat with Boss today. You can meet Boss’s friends and the President’s even here!”

The two boys looked absolutely shaken until Bull pulled up some chairs. Dorian immediately began talking to them and Krem beamed at Leliana. Leliana let slip one of her rare smiles.

Slowly, students began approaching the table as they ate. Varric seemed the most popular- students began pouring out of their tables to meet and talk with him, some wanting questions about assignments answered, others just wanting to talk. Varric was a natural- he answered their questions and then sent them off to meet Alana. Soon the entire table was flocking with brave students wanting to speak to their teachers outside of class and meet the President. A few actually sat down beside Krem and his friends, joining the lunch. Sera had them all busting a gut as she stuck mozzarella sticks up her nose and Bull had a few talking about martial arts techniques.

Only one student came up to greet Solas, a young woman from his evening class. She started off by asking if the tests were graded and when he said they weren’t just yet she was quick to apologize for rushing him.

“It’s no problem at all,” he reassured her, “But out of curiosity, have you met your acting President?”

“No, sir,” the girl said, glancing quickly at Alana. She was being surrounded by three students, shaking hands.

“She may be a bit busy now, but I think you may find her company enjoyable. When you feel comfortable, she’d love to meet you.”

“I don’t think I could, Professor,” the girl confessed, “I’m sure I’m just another student to her.”

Alana had caught Solas’s eye. The other students had wandered off, giggling in excitement to each other. Solas tilted his head for her to come over.

“Not at all,” Solas said, “She loves meeting everyone.” Alana was walking over and the girl hadn’t noticed yet. When she was close enough to touch her Solas addressed her, “Madame President, may I introduce-“

The girl whirled around in fear to see Alana right behind her, a hand outreached. “No need for introductions, Professor Solas,” Alana said, “Madison, right? I saw you won the engineering scholarship. The first girl at this school to win it, I believe?”

The girl, Madison, was red as Alana shook her hand. “Y-Yes, Madame President,” she managed to spit out.

“You keep doing what you’re doing, Madison,” Alana said, “And don’t get discouraged. In male dominated fields, us girls gotta be tough. You have any trouble you tell Professor Solas over there or shoot me an e-mail, ok?”

“Yes! Th-thank you!” Madison said. She turned and nearly ran away but Solas saw a smile on her face.

“How on earth-“ Solas started.

“You have to pay attention to your student’s achievements if you want to be in tune with the school,” Alana said, smiling at Madison’s retreating form, “And girls who are fighting against the norm hold a special place in my heart.”

The rest of lunch proceeded much the same way- eating, greeting, and laughing. As they all got up to leave and the student workers came to clear the table, Solas heard Alana thank them for all their work. As they left, the student workers cleaned their tables with smiles on their faces.

“I’d count this a huge success,” Leliana said as they exited into the cool fall air.

“Yes,” Alana said, “It was even better than I could have hoped.”

The group slowly disbanded and went to their separate buildings. Leliana stayed until everyone but Alana, Solas, and Cassandra had left. He realized there would be no time during lunches where they could be alone anymore and took his leave with a short wave towards Alana. Alana waved back and as he turned towards his building he could feel Leliana’s eyes boring into his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking as someone who has worked in university dining halls, this is accurate. Though it really depends on who is there- like, for instance, the police chief came in to do this kind of thing once and NO ONE sat by him it was almost sad. There is such strong hatred for police on my campus and just in general like people were LEAVING the dining hall because he was there. I'd be sad but I was also angry and uncomfortable because all the officers had their guns on their belts.   
> Yikes sorry for the weird anecdote.   
> I wish Alana would come to the dining hall. I'd be getting her refills every time her glass was half empty.


	42. Night Terror

Solas forced open his crusted-shut eyes. His phone was ringing somewhere in the house, sounding ethereal as the wind howled against the house. Branches tapped at his roof and he managed to sit up, rubbing his eyes. His nightstand clock read 3:29, Friday morning.

He trudged across the house on shaky legs, eyes half open, searching for the ringing phone. As he approached the study the ringing finally stopped. He opened the door and his phone sat next to the graded tests, blue light blinking. He didn’t bother turning on a light and as a result stumbled over the hairdryer and a few canvases. Solas cursed, grabbing his phone with clumsy hands, opening the lock screen. The bright light made him squint uncomfortably as he looked at the notification.

One missed call from Alana.

Calling at three in the morning was never a good sign. Solas hit the callback button and waited, looking out the picture window of his study. The wind was terrible- a few tree branches had fallen in his yard and dead leaves were flying around in mini tornados. The ringing at the other end of the phone continued. Solas scratched his chin.

 _Click_.

“Alana?” he asked, voice still husky from being unused for several hours, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Alana’s voice rasped in his ear, low and exhausted. “The dream changed again.”

Solas began picking his way through the study to the door. “I’m on my way.”

“Solas you don’t have to-“

“But I am.”

Alana took a shaky breath on the other end of the line and relented.

“Give me ten minutes,” Solas promised, entering the hallway and heading to his bedroom for pants and a shirt.

“Ok.”

He hung up the phone and hastily dressed himself before grabbing his car keys and heading out. As soon as he exited his house the wind nearly knocked him over. Solas cursed, his sentiment lost to the shrieking wind. He scrambled to get into his car and out of his driveway.

Speeding, he arrived at Alana’s house in seven minutes. Solas pulled in and braced himself for the wind before opening his car door. The minute the car door was open he raced to her door, knocking and pulling his coat around his ears. Alana arrived at the door in seconds.

Solas barely had time to take anything in- the wind forced him to push his way inside the second she opened the door. He relaxed once inside, turning to face her as she shut the door behind him. That’s when he noticed how pale she was.

The bruise Sethius had branded on her wrist looked like a bright green tattoo against her drained skin. She looked almost grey and he knew it wasn’t just the lack of lights on in the house. As Alana turned to look at him he noticed the black eye, nearly healed, stood out like large, discolored freckles. The circles under her eyes made her entire face look hollow.

“Jesus, Alana,” Solas whispered, reaching out a hand to touch her emaciated face.

Alana’s eyes fluttered closed a moment before her body began sagging. Solas reacted, ready to catch her when her eyes opened wide and she caught her balance. Solas grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.

“How much sleep have you been getting?” he asked, incredulous.

“Um.” Her forehead scrunched in concentration, her body swaying slightly. “I don’t know.”

“Give me an estimate.”

“Three?”

“Hours?”

“About.”

“ _A night?_ ”

Alana smiled weakly. Solas gritted his teeth and guided her to her couch to lay her down.

“How long has it been this bad?” he asked, placing a pillow under her head.

“Er, maybe, uh, three days.”

“Why?”

Alana closed her eyes, her expression guilty. “I may have been having the dreams still.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“No.”

“Alana-“

“When they’re the same thing it’s not that bad. I still get scared but it gets easier to deal with when I wake up. I didn’t think you needed to know.”

Solas shook his head. He left to the kitchen to make her some tea. When the kettle was on, he came back to kneel at her side.

“I started getting scared to sleep when you weren’t here,” she admitted sheepishly, “It takes me forever to fall asleep and then when I wake up from the dream I twist and turn until my alarm goes off.”

Solas nodded, adjusting his position so that he sat cross-legged beside her. “What changed tonight, then?”

Alana hesitated. “The dream changed again. Worse, again.”

“What happened?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“I could see the other car. Sethius was driving it. When I looked to see where you, Cassandra, and Varric where, Varric was missing and Cassandra wouldn’t even look at the car. You managed to open the door this time but-“ her breath hitched and she took a moment to regain herself. She continued, “But the seatbelt was stuck. I tried to help you but I couldn’t move. The fire came and you _wouldn’t leave_. I kept begging you to go and you wouldn’t. The windshield shattered for some reason. One of the shards of glass flew into your neck. You died on top of me.”

Solas grabbed her hand, pressing it against his face.

“You died and the dream just… kept _going_. I still burned to death but I had to watch your skin fall off and your eyes boil and-“ Alana was close to hyperventilating. Solas squeezed her hand and placed one of his cool hands on her forehead.

“I’m here,” he reassured her, “I’m here and we’re both alright.” Her breath slowed a little. “There’s tea on. I’m going to stay here until you fall asleep.”

Alana didn’t have the energy to sob- instead her breaths came in big gasps, her face trying to hide in the couch. The kettle whistled and Solas went to make the tea.

When he came back, Alana had calmed enough to sit up. He brought her the tea, Earl Grey, and sat beside her.

“You’ll stay with me tonight?” she asked, holding the warm tea between her fingers.

“Of course.” Solas kissed the top of her head, leaning back on the couch.

They both fell asleep, half a cup of tea steaming on the coffee table, bodies entwined on the couch. The clock read 4:31.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its amazing watching my sub list go up- thanks so much for reading and subscribing guys, it keeps me going!


	43. Charity

He feared that his disheveled appearance would be noticed, commented upon at lunch. Staying the night at Alana’s had left very little time for grooming in the morning and he thanked his luck for living so close to her otherwise he would have been forced to wear the same suit. Perhaps _then_ it may not have gone unnoticed. Luckily for them both, most of the lunch crowd had been rocked by Josephine’s mass text early that morning and now no one spoke of anything else:

One of the school’s most prolific donors and alumni was holding a charity ball in two weeks time.

Josephine had received invitations for Alana, herself, Leliana, Cullen, and three guests. She sat on one side of Alana, discussing tactics, politics, pointing out the social graces that she would have to practice. Leliana silently worked from her phone, occasionally announcing new information: Other guests invited, the charity involved, the net worth of the host, the kinds of food that would be served. Solas marveled at the media consultant, slightly terrified at the amount of information at her fingertips.

Vivienne continued to repeat how relieved she was that she had arranged an appointment with her tailor _just_ in time, it could not have been happened any other way. Cullen sat and toyed with his food, uncomfortable with the fuss.

In all of this, Alana’s brave face did not falter. Her lack of sleep did alter her ability to focus- Josephine’s hand would occasionally cover Alana’s if she noticed her eyes glazing over. When they refocused at Josephine’s touch, Alana would smile and Josie would repeat whatever nuanced silverware tip she had been attempting to communicate.

The rest of the table was chattering, wondering who would be accompanying Alana as guests. Solas chose to stay out of the discussion, as they had already seemed to silently agree that he was assured one of the spots. There were many votes for Cassandra, backed by Vivienne when she could spare the breath, as she was going with to the tailor’s appointment and would be able to dress the part. The last spot was hotly debated.

Leliana’s updates rarely stopped the conversation. It wasn’t until she stood did a hush come over the table. The students in the dining hall hadn’t noticed the commotion and chatter covered the tension in her voice.

“Sethius Amladaris is on the guest list.”

Alana nodded slowly. “I expected as much.”

Leliana sat down, hissing across the table, “This isn’t just a ball for the higher ups, this is a power swing. You’ll be fighting Sethius for the donor’s approval.”

Josephine paled, glancing between Leliana and Alana. Had the situation not been so serious and he not been so tired, he might have laughed. The secretary’s face was an open book that read _Oh God we’re doomed_.

Alana placed a comforting hand on Josie’s shoulder, forcing a smile. Vivienne muttered, “Dear, if you’re going into this with that fake smile, our dearest Josephine is right to be worried.”

Alana’s smile faltered and Solas’s chest ached for her. This was going to be difficult for her self-esteem. She already questioned her ability to run- of course a test in her weakest skill set could destroy her resolve.

Surprisingly, it was the melancholic Cassandra who came to Alana’s rescue.

“Do we truly have so little faith in our President?” she asked, “If none of us had faith in her, we wouldn’t be here to begin with. Why do we falter now?”

The table was silent, contemplating.

“Because they afraid of losing their way of life if she does not succeed,” Cole spoke up.

“Then we should fight all the harder,” Cassandra said, “If we wish to keep our positions, we must pick up the slack in areas where Alana is weak. She is here to champion us and the students- if she has trouble with something, are we not obligated as friends and supporters to help her?”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Vivienne said, raising her chin, “I will be supporting her in purchasing her dress.”

Josephine placed her hand over Alana’s once more. “And I will be helping her with social graces.”

“The cooking club can help raise money for you to donate at the charity,” Sera offered, “So long as none of the money goes to those hoity-toity piss-ants.”

“Same with my team,” Bull said.

“And the art clubs,” Blackwall proposed.

“We will do all we can to help you, Ms. Lavellan,” Solas said, locking eyes with Alana. Alana smiled genuinely, her tired eyes wet with repressed grateful tears. Solas reassured her with a smile as the table erupted in discussions on how to help. Cassandra caught Solas’s eye and smiled, a rare, genuine thing that surprised him. After the weeks of seeing a constant frown on her face it was a welcome change. He glanced towards Alana to see her also looking at Cassandra, the tears almost overflowing. Josephine stopped the emotions from welling over with a quick hand-off of a handkerchief. Alana accepted it and excused herself.

The table chattered, different fundraising ideas being thrown out and advice being given on the type of dress that Vivienne’s tailor would provide. It seemed that the tailor appointment might turn into a group outing as both Dorian and Leliana refused to be left out.

Solas slipped away while Leliana engaged Josephine in a heated discussion about what shoes Alana should wear. He crept to the hallway with the staff bathrooms, waiting outside the single-use women’s bathroom. He knocked quietly, a quick three raps.

“Alana?”

The lock clicked and Alana opened the door. She looked quickly up and down the hallway before pulling Solas in by the tie. He stumbled in, surprised.

Alana shut and locked the bathroom door behind him. Her eyes were puffed and red, cheeks rosy from crying.

“Alana-“

She rushed into him, burying her head in his chest.

“Thank you,” she sighed, “Just… thank you. For coming here. For loving me. I can’t…”

Her breath hitched, caught on the last word.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured into her hair, rubbing her back, “I know this is going to be hard. You hate these things.”

“And to hinge my future on _one night_ of socialization with people with sticks up their ass so far up-“

Solas laughed, hugging her tight. Alana let out a watery giggle, tears still threatening to flow.

“I’ll be with you all the way. So will Cassandra and Josephine. You’ll do great. I promise,” Solas said, watching their reflection in the small mirror above the sink. She seemed so small sometimes. Such a large personality, a huge position- all trapped in her small frame that he could wrap his arms around.

He was afraid she might break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Im not dead.


	44. Bastien

Much to the surprise of everyone involved, Josephine allowed Solas to attend Alana’s visit to the tailor.

“You needn’t worry about prying eyes there,” Vivienne had assured him, “My tailor is well-compensated and knows matters of delicacy when he sees them.”

Josephine had obviously believed in Vivienne, and with herself, Cassandra, and Leliana all attending, they shrugged off his presence. “We need _someone_ to carry the bags,” Leliana had joked, a rare smile playing at her lips. Something about the dress shopping had made them all giddy. The only exception was Cassandra.

On the carpool there, Vivienne drove with Leliana, Josephine, and Alana in the car, supposedly to talk about the charity ball. Solas drove behind them in unexpected company. When he had pulled up to their meeting point it was Cassandra who jumped into his passenger seat.

“They are like a bunch of giggling school girls getting ready for prom,” she had explained, fastening her seatbelt, “I do not think I could handle that for more than the five minutes I already have.”

Now they sat in relative silence, Solas watching Vivienne’s turn signals carefully and occasionally looking at the shadows in the car chattering excitedly. Alana was indistinguishable among them. He was thankful for it- the trip had improved her mood considerably.

“Professor.”

Solas broke out of her reverie, remembering that Cassandra sat beside him in the car. His composure regained, he responded, “Yes?”

“I am pleased to see Alana so happy with your company. It does her a great deal of good.”

Solas nodded slowly, glancing at the Sheriff out of the side of his eye. She looked straight foreword at the car in front of her, stoic. The way she left her words off he felt he was in for more.

“However,” she continued, “If it is not intrusive, I’d like to offer a word of warning.”

Solas did not respond.

“If you are hiding anything from her, you are losing time to bring it forward safely. You have already reached a point where it will hurt her deeply- do not go any further.”

Solas’s chest tightened, his breath knocked out of him. Did she know? How could she? Where had she found out? Had Leliana-

A quick, surprised glance at Cassandra eased his initial fear. Cassandra remained unemotional but for a small lip quiver. He struggled to keep his face undisturbed by her advice, trying to figure out where the advice had come from.

“Perhaps it is not my place,” he choked out, “But are you speaking from some recent experience?”

Cassandra’s head snapped back towards him and he thanked the heavens for Vivienne’s sudden right turn. He struggled to get into the right lane and turn before the light changed. In the quick, shaking car movements, Cassandra’s furrowed brow relaxed in apprehension. When they were back on track down a smooth country road, Cassandra relaxed, anger forgotten.

After a few minutes of silence she finally responded, “Yes.”

Solas knew not to force it out of her. If she wished to tell him, she would.

As it was, she did not. Half an hour of uninterrupted silence later, they pulled into a long dirt driveway in the middle of nowhere. The driveway winded under tall trees, a slow gradient bringing the cars up the hill. Solas nearly feared getting stuck on the incline but after his car’s few hiccups in the dirt, it continued to bounce them up the driveway in relative safety.

“Of all the backroad, unkempt, hermit-“ Cassandra muttered under her breath as they bounced so hard in their seats they nearly hit the roof of the car.

Though Solas did not voice his frustrations he had the same reservations- Vivienne, of all people, using a tailor who lived in the woods?

The grand house finally came into view. Three tall stories of Psuedo-Victorian era architecture, trees and wildflowers hugging the house close as if it were part of the woods itself. Solas managed to park as the driveway leveled out and he relaxed in his seat. He had not realized how tense the drive up had made him.

The girls in Vivienne’s car were out and clamoring excitedly in loud whispers. When Solas glanced back at Cassandra he noticed even the apathetic sheriff had a gleam of excitement in her eyes. She caught his eye and he gave a quick, reassuring smile before getting out of the car.

Alana was the first to run over to him.

“Solas, look at this place, it’s beautiful!”

“It is,” he admitted, “Though not the first place I imagined Vivienne bringing us. I expected to be going to the city.”

“The city is for those who do not value the originality of creativity,” Vivienne said, overhearing him, “If I wished to dress in the latest corporate fashions I wouldn’t be the trendsetter I am. You, of all people Solas, should see the value in commissioning unknown artists.”

Solas nodded. Josephine said, “And out of all of the guests, Alana will be wearing something no one has seen on a showroom floor!”

“Oh darling, just Alana?” Vivienne said, “Do not think that I did not ask my friend to think of outfits for her amazing secretary and darling media consultant.”

Alana seemed privy to this information because she laughed as Josephine and Leliana’s eyes lit up in excitement. Before anyone could say a word of thanks, however, the door to the house opened and a small old man stood silhouetted in the doorframe.

“Bastien, dear!” Vivienne called, walking towards him, “How wonderful to see you again!”  
The old man and Vivienne kissed each other’s cheeks quickly as the rest of them walked up.

“Greetings, my friends, I am Bastien and I shall be serving you today,” the little old man said, “Which of you is the fabled Alana?”

Alana smiled and reached her hand out to Bastien who, instead of shaking it, took it gently in both of his hands and kissed it.

“Vivienne speaks highly of you. Let us see what we can do for you, my lady.”

The group followed Bastien and Alana into the mouth of the great house, glamour awaiting just inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really get to that side Cassandra/Varric fic because let me tell you Ive got a running side story in my head for them at all times.


	45. Elven Queen

Solas found an unlikely friend in Cassandra Pentaghast that day.

Bastien ran around the high-ceilinged rooms, grabbing errant tape measures and wads of fabric. He already had a few prototypes for the women to try on so Alana found herself being shuffled in and out of the dressing room by Josephine and Vivienne. Leliana studied the colors and the drawings Bastien had made, commenting on color and what types of shoes would go best. The constant low chatter echoed through the huge house, the only other noise being the branches of the trees tapping the roof two stories above them.

Solas reclined on the chaise longue, marveling at the excessive Victorian-era décor. Flowered wallpaper, ornate and somewhat uncomfortable furniture, and of all things he was sitting on a fainting couch. He hoped there would be no corsets involved in Bastien’s garments.

Just as he sat marveling at the impractical if not beautiful home furnishings, Cassandra sat beside him, leaning back against the wall.

“I hate to impose my presence upon you again, Professor,” she said, “But I despise the fuss.”

“I am honestly surprised you agreed,” Solas admitted.

“Alana is a dear friend. And if I am to accompany her to this charity ball, I must look the part.”

Solas saw Alana in the other room, a white sheet wrapped around her as she came in to ask for Leliana’s help with a zipper. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement, the sheet slipping along the smooth skin of her hips. Bastien laughed and Leliana rushed her back into the changing room to offer assistance before the back of the sheet gave out completely.

“Could you not wear your dress uniform?” Solas asked the sheriff, watching one bare leg of Alana’s slip through the sheet before disappearing completely, “You no doubt have one for special occasions.”

“I do, but…”

Solas broke out of his reverie, Alana’s skin hidden behind an archway. He looked over at Cassandra who looked visibly uncomfortable. Her face had flushed and her eyebrows had furrowed. The poor woman was embarrassed about something and Solas was unsure he had the courage to ask.

“Josephine agreed that a non-menacing authority figure by Alana’s side would be best. We don’t want to appear as if we are strong-arming our way into power.”

Cassandra still wasn’t looking at him and Solas couldn’t help the half-smile that came to his lips. Mustering his courage he encouraged her with a quiet, “And?”

Her face contorted as if the words were fighting her brain to leave her lips. Finally she spat out, “I do enjoy wearing dresses.”

Solas chuckled and the sheriff spun to face him, face hot.

“Sheriff, please,” he said, chuckling intermittently, “There is nothing to be ashamed of. I only laugh at your defensiveness, not the statement.”

Cassandra huffed, indignant; “There is nothing wrong with enjoying feeling beautiful.”

“No, there really isn’t,” he agreed, “You shouldn’t repress it so much. No one will think less of the sheriff if she likes dresses and romance movies.”

“You are infuriating, Professor,” she muttered, “But you are also right.”

Solas’s phone buzzed in his pocket. As he read the message, he laughed.

“Sheriff, am I to understand that _someone_ told Dorian the wrong meeting time?” he asked, holding up his phone.

Cassandra’s face twisted in a small smile, looking away from Solas’s gaze. “Oh no, and to think he’s missing all our fun. What a shame.”

Solas laughed in earnest, Cassandra’s small smile growing with each second. He never knew why Alana loved Cassandra so much but he was beginning to understand. She was much more than the tough façade she had built around herself.

“Oh!” the sheriff suddenly breathed, standing. Solas looked up, laughter stopped in its tracks, to follow her gaze. There, in the adjoining room, stood Alana.

The dress was certainly not to size yet but the mockup said enough. As Bastien pinned it to Alana’s body the dress morphed to her skin, the nearly sheer material imitating flower petals. The skirt blossomed at the waist, the petals stacking atop one another, flowing at the gentlest touch, the slightest breeze of someone moving past. With her hair pinned up and the dress’s plunging neckline, Solas couldn’t help but stand in reverence to her beauty.

Alana beamed, holding up one of the “petals” in her skirt and Solas saw it was huge, thin, weaving across her body like a moth’s wing. The illusion of a flower wasn’t broken but transformed- no longer did he see her covered in flowers but _in command_ of the plant, a queen moth. He had read enough Tolkien to know that in that dress she would be a high elf among squabbling men.

Leliana and Josephine sat there debating about shoes. Vivienne watched Bastien closely, offering suggestions on the placement of a pin or the length of the skirt. Cassandra continued standing in girlish infatuation, the dress being everything her hopeless romantic side had ever dreamed of. Solas could not stop himself- he walked through the women and Bastien to Alana who smiled atop the platform she stood on.

He stood there, looking up at her like a fool for a moment before she broke the silence.

“Well, it’s no Rothko, Solas, but I sure think this dress is a work of art!”

Solas chuckled, “Alana, you’re mistaken. _You_ are the true work of art here.”

“Oy! Save it for the bedroom, you two,” Leliana scolded, the soft smile that had been present all day finally breaking open. Josephine laughed and blood rushed to Alana’s face. Bastien let out a breathy chortle and placed a gentle hand on Solas to move him out of the way before continuing to pin. Alana smiled at Solas, embarrassed and Solas unapologetically smiled.

She was radiant and he didn’t care who knew.

“Done!” Bastien announced, “The dress will be ready by next week. I’ll have to put it on rush delivery but I’m sure it’s worth it.”

Vivienne led Alana to the back to change and Solas watched her disappear in all her glory.

“Now, who’s next?” Bastien asked.

“May I?”

Suddenly Cassandra was beside Solas, red-faced but straight-backed. He smiled at her embarrassed excitement.

“Of course, my dear.”

Cassandra followed Bastien to the back as well and Solas resigned himself back to the chaise, enamored by the image of Alana, elven queen, burned into his brain. The girls continued chatting and Bastien went back to measuring and fussing. Solas reclined on the fainting couch, closing his eyes to savor the beauty of his queen. There she stood, silvery moth wings on her back, flower petals in her hair. She came towards him and he knelt, his knees giving way, the Beast chained and muzzled under her command.

“You’re running out of time,” his queen said, but her voice was that of Cassandra’s.

Solas looked up, his queen’s gentle eyes turning yellow. Her eye sockets sunk back into her head, skin turning grey. He tried to protest but her skin began flaking away. It was no longer flower petals raining down- it was ash and skin. The Beast whined from its cage and Solas cried out as his queen, no longer Alana, began turning to dust.

_Don’t, I didn’t mean to, don’t leave_ -

“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.”

Solas snapped awake. He apparently had dozed. Leliana was being pinned, her toes peaking out from under the thin skirt. Cassandra and Josephine were watching, smiling and laughing.

Alana sat next to him, a hand on his arm, amused by his surprise.

“How long-“

“About an hour. We figured you might be bored, it’s fine. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Solas rubbed his forehead, the dream already fading.

“You alright? You seem a bit out of it.”

“Yes, I am fine,” he reassured her, “You looked beautiful, by the way.”

She planted a quick kiss on his forehead. “Thank you. You were very sweet.”

“Are you going out with them tonight?” he asked, tilting his head towards the rest of the girls.

“Just for a few drinks.”

“I’ll pick you up,” he offered, “Just text me.”

“Alright,” she said, leaning on his shoulder, “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering about inspiration for the dress:  
> http://www.labooks.ru/images/watermarked/detailed/5/savage_10.jpg
> 
> Kind of cheese but trying to make up for it with foreshadowing.  
> But come on, gotta have some cheese when ya see the one you love all dressed up in a beautiful gown dontcha? This is a freakin romance.


	46. Baby's Sleepin'

Despite Alana’s insistence that they would only be out for a few drinks, he didn’t get a call until nearly one in the morning.

In the meantime he had paced around his house, her book still sitting untouched upon the coffee table. He knew he would have to flip through it to read her comments soon- his morbid curiosity would soon get the better of him- but not just yet. His brain worked in images as he paced, matching one idol with another, mixing colors in his head, planning composition. He paced this way for nearly half an hour when inspiration finally struck.

Solas gathered his oil paints together and propped up the prepared canvas. Alana’s painting had finally cemented itself in his mind.

He became completely engrossed. Colors mixing, paint spots drying on his previously clean hands. All the while he saw the sheer fabric of her dress in his mind, her parted lips murmuring against his ear, hard diamonds glittering against her neck. Cole was right, she _was_ diamond.

Blue shadows. Yellow highlights. Specs of red, swathes of green. Had he not made some coffee he might’ve forgotten his phone for good. As it was, the machine beeped from the kitchen and he broke out of his trance. The painting was not done but it he had made some significant headway.

Passing the coffee table, he remembered his phone which he had haphazardly tossed next to _Faded For Her_. The coffee machine still whining, he picked it up quickly and threw it in his pocket before running to turn the blasted machine off. The house sufficiently quiet, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it. Three new messages. He opened them somewhat apprehensively. Had she been trying to get a hold of him?

The messages popped up, pictures of the girls at the bar. The first had Josephine leaning on Leliana, laughing. Leliana had a drink in her hand and Cassandra sat behind her, bemused. The second was Cassandra laughing and Alana’s caption read, _Oh thank christ shes laughing._ The third was obviously taken by Leliana as it had Alana, a beer in one hand and a microphone in the other, singing on a stage with Josephine and Cassandra. He couldn’t quite make out the lyrics on the karaoke screen but all three were so into it that he couldn’t help but smile.

Solas poured his coffee and went to sit on the couch, typing out a quick, _Having fun?_ to Alana. As he hit send and set his coffee down on the table, his mug clipped the edge of _Faded For Her_. He slowly lowered his phone to his lap, staring the book down.

He still hadn’t e-mailed his agent back about the movie rights. He could barely think about such things with everything else happening. The charity ball, work, Alana- how could he bring himself to deal with such a thing when he could barely grade papers at a reasonable rate? The very thought of e-mailing his agent weighed his chest down. Seeing the god-forsaken book advertised on movie posters, hearing about casting decisions, the Internet flooding with it-

_She_ would be furious.

He shook his head. It was too long ago. She would forgive him eventually. But if he were to sell the rights and make a movie, she may come back. She’d hate him.

That settled it for the time being. Solas took the book and carefully slid it under the couch. There it would remain until further notice.

His phone began to ring. The caller ID did not recognize the phone number so he let it ring a few times. When the person on the other end did not give up, he answered.

“Solas?” the voice nearly screamed in his ear. The background noise thundered, crackling and chaotic.

“And this is?”

“Leliana. Alana’s too far gone.”

“Do you need me to pick her up?”

“No, we’ll bring her to you. Be there in fifteen.”

“Very well.”

The clamoring on the other end stopped abruptly. Solas tidied up his living space and locked the study door. Alana was not to see the painting until he was done, but it couldn’t be moved until it was dry.

It wasn’t until he began watching for the headlights did he even think to wonder how Leliana would know where to go. He had never given her his address and no one but Alana had ever visited and according to Leliana, Alana was far too wasted to give good directions.

Before he could pull up her number on his phone, headlights turned into his driveway. A chill ran down his spine. The media consultant had access to more information than he was strictly comfortable with.

Solas walked out the door, the cool air almost demanding he had put on a jacket. Cassandra and Leliana walked towards him, Alana holding Cassandra’s arm and humming.

Solas laughed, “Just a few drinks I see.”

“More than that, my friend,” Cassandra said, a slight slur to her consonants.

“I’m fine, guys, really,” Alana insisted. She hiccupped.

“We’ll leave her in your care,” Leliana said, seemingly unaffected by alcohol. Either she was sober or she had remarkable posture.

Solas took Alana’s hand and guided her gently to his chest where he wrapped an arm around her. “Thank you, Leliana, Cassandra,” he said, nodding at both of them. A quick glance towards the car let him know that Josephine had fallen asleep on the ride over.

“No trouble, Solas. See you Monday,” Leliana said, gently holding Cassandra’s arm. As they walked back to the car, Cassandra shrugged it off and Leliana let the hand fall.

Solas retreated back into the heated house, Alana in tow. “Let’s get you inside.”

As soon as the door shut, Alana walked over to the couch and lay down.

“No, sweetheart,” he coaxed, “You have to make it to the bed. Sober Alana will be upset if Drunk Alana sleeps on the couch.”

“Fuck Sober Alana,” she growled, trying to hide under a pillow, “She’s no fun anyhow.”

Solas tried to gently pry away the pillow to no avail. “I think Sober Alana is fun,” he countered, smiling, “But she won’t be much fun tomorrow if she has a hangover _and_ a sore back.”

“That’s a problem for Sober Alana. Drunk Alana is the epitome of comfort right now.”

“Aren’t you stubborn.”

“Stubborn is as stubborn does,” Alana said before giggling into the pillow. Solas rolled his eyes.

“Very well,” he said, “You’ve forced my hand.”

Alana peeked out of the pillow just in time to notice Solas’s arms tucking below her knees and her shoulders. He lifted her into his arms, pillow and all.

She giggled, hiding her face in the pillow again.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, walking into the hallway.

“It’s just like that time,” she giggled.

He entered the bedroom and slowly put her down on the unmade bed. “What time?” he asked, pulling the blankets forward to cover her as she rolled over.

“The time,” she whispered, eyes closed and already half-asleep, “The time in the book. Carry ‘cross the threshold, rah-rah-rah. Her dress got soiled and she was angry because it hurt.”

Solas froze, half into the bed, about to crawl in with her. She was referencing _Faded_.

“How is it-“ he started.

“Shh!” she mumbled, blankets up to her chin, “Baby’s sleepin’.”

Within a minute Alana’s soft snore came from her lips. Solas relaxed and climbed into bed. That damned book seemed insistent on haunting him, even from the mouths of drunks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same, Alana, same.


	47. Fundraisers

Alana later confessed that the hangover that she sustained the morning after her night out with the girls was not nearly as bad as the headache that seemed to follow her everywhere the whole next week. Solas had been able to help with her hangover- Gatorade, painkillers, and cuddles certainly seemed to help. However, no amount of cuddling or Tylenol could stop the constant crowding Alana endured during the school days.

According to Leliana, nearly _everyone_ in the lunch group had started a fundraiser within their departments without knowledge of the others. Alana had stern words with Josephine who had signed all of their fundraising requests without talking to her but Josie just laughed her off with, “Alana, trust me.”

During lunch hours the quad was filled with student run booths, boasting Sera’s cooking class’s cookies or pottery from Blackwall’s sculpture class. Iron Bull and his Chargers had put together some sort of show, a boom box blaring relevant rap and hip hop as the students sparred and sold lemonade. Varric had a small booth where he had Cole reading student’s fortunes for donations. Dorian, insulted by being left behind during the dress excursion, ran a photo booth where he was the star guest, appearing in all the photos with students, occasionally getting Varric, Iron Bull, or Sera in on the game. All the tables had clear signs that read that all money raised would be donated to the Children’s Hospital during the charity ball.

With all the booths so close to each other the entire quad was crowded. Just the week before no one would dare step near the fountain and its cemented pavilion. Now foot traffic had increased tenfold, the crackling of leaves underfoot adding to the high noise level helped by Bull’s boom box. Alana said she refused to go down there for fear of it looking like she was running it. When by Tuesday Josephine had received four new fundraiser forms from student committees willing to give half the proceedings to the President’s office to be donated during the charity ball. Alana signed off on the requests and- on the urgings of Leliana, Josephine, and Solas- decided to visit the quad the next day.

Solas had been visiting with Blackwall when it happened. He had taken interest in buying one of the vases that Blackwall himself had made and was about to pull out his wallet. Solas noticed that the bills rubbing against each other were audible and looked to see the whole quad had quieted.

The boom box was still blaring and unknowing students near Bull’s sparring matches still laughed and joked. From through the silent majority of the crowd, however, he spotted the top of Cullen’s curly mop on the edge of the quad. No doubt, he realized, Alana had arrived.

Suddenly the quad erupted, cheers echoing off the surrounding buildings, a deafening, reverberating roar. Solas chuckled as he handed Blackwall his money and Blackwall returned the smile while he wrapped the vase.

It wasn’t until much later did he see Alana- Varric and Dorian stole her, parading her around the quad to participate in all the booths. Students crowded for a turn at Dorian’s photo booth, waiting for a picture with Alana. Bull brought her in for a sparring match against Krem and the other Chargers and Alana held her own, even beating Grim. An impromptu dance party erupted when Grim fell on the mat, Krem pulling Alana’s arm for a victory dance. There was a period of ten to fifteen minutes where the quad was nearly out of control.

Alana bought four dozen of Sera’s sugar cookies and spread them out amongst the students behind her. She met with some of Blackwall’s students, asking them about their art and their contact information, in case she wanted a commission. She sat on the lip of the fountain, eating a cookie, and answered student questions. Varric joined her and persuaded her to let Cole tell her fortune. The mass exodus of students began, piling around the little tent where Cole was hiding from the sun. Accounts differed as to what occurred in that tent- Alana just laughed and said it was silliness, Varric said it was inspiring, and Solas overheard various students muttering that it was eerie. Apparently, the minute Cole took Alana’s hands he simply said, “You have all the support you need. One less will not affect your win.”

 

At the end of the week, Alana sat on Solas’s couch, a glass of white wine in her hand. She looked haggard, her body limp with exhaustion. Solas sat beside her, rubbing her leg and letting her sip her wine in relative silence. Her phone beeped. She looked at it and sighed, a smile finally coming to her lips. It was the first relaxed smile Solas had seen from her in days. He squeezed her leg.

“It’s Leliana. They raised over two thousand dollars to be donated tomorrow night.”

“I’m impressed.”

“I’m relieved. Combined with my personal donation and the charity auction items going up for bid, our total donations will probably tally just over thirty-five hundred. Let’s see Sethius pull _that_ out of his ass.”

Solas laughed, kissing her cheek. He didn’t want to tell her about the surprise he had planned for the auction just yet. For once, a secret he kept from her only made his chest lighter. Sethius may be able to match three thousand five hundred dollars, but when Solas was done tomorrow night, there’d be no way for Sethius to catch up. Alana drank her wine and settled in for the night, watching a movie while Solas held her. Solas’s mind kept wandering back to his locked office. _Not yet_ , he promised himself, _Not yet._


	48. Awkward

Her hair spilled across his pillow, her legs tangled with his under the comforter. Solas opened his eyes only enough to look at the clock. The morning was still young, too early for a Saturday. He began slipping back into the comfort of a light sleep, Alana’s warmth lulling him back into the realm of dreams.

_RiIiIiIng_

Alana jerked awake, surprising Solas back into reality. Alana reached over to the nightstand, fumbling to pick up her phone. Her fingers grasped the case of the phone and pulled it in, angrily pulling the answer slider over.

“Hello?” she groaned, messy hair hiding her face, voice gravely from disuse. Solas laid a hand on her bare waist, rubbing her smooth skin with one calloused thumb.

“ _This early?_ It’s barely eight, Josie,” Alana whined, “Five more minutes, _Mom_.”

Solas smiled, curling his body around her, his head resting in the crook of her shoulder and neck. He kissed the spot softly. Alana pushed her hair back from her face and frowned, eyes half open.

“Fine. Give me an hour, alright? No, I won’t wash my hair. Ok, I’ll tell him. See you soon.”

Alana hung up and face planted into the pillow. Solas squeezed her in a tight hug.

“Need to leave soon?” he mumbled, nibbling her earlobe.

Alana groaned, “Apparently getting ready for a charity ball that starts at six takes nine hours.”

“And you are to tell me…?”

“Tell you that you just need to show up in a suit to Vivienne’s tailor’s house at four. Might as well carpool with Varric.”

“Varric?” Solas asked, somewhat surprised, “That’s who you picked to join us? Is that wise?”

“I am going to make Cassandra and Varric play nice whether they like it or not.”

“Josephine approves?”

Alana smirked.

“Alana, you didn’t-“

“Varric’s got a suit. Josie doesn’t need to know. It’d just stress her out more.”

“Cassandra?”

“Leliana’s the only one who knows.”

“Oh, Alana.”

“Just trust me, Solas.”

“I do, darling. I do _not_ trust them.”

“Well I do. We’ll all survive,” she said giving him a quick kiss, somewhat more chipper, “I’m going to shower. Care to join me?”

“As much as I would love to, I believe I’ll be showering later in the day. I have a few things _I_ need to prepare and I do not wish to exert myself to the point of needing a second shower.”

Alana raised an eyebrow. “And what are _you_ up to today?”

Solas laughed, giving her a quick kiss. “You should go shower. It will do no good to keep Josephine and Vivienne waiting. Especially Vivienne.”

Alana sighed in defeat, rolling out of bed.

Within an hour, Alana had showered and changed into sweatpants and button-up shirt. Solas gave her a quick peck on the forehead before she left, promising to be there soon. Cassandra’s car pulled into the driveway and he waved at both of the women as they drove away looking tired but excited. Solas felt his chest sink. Cassandra’s good mood would be spoiled soon enough with the arrival of a certain English professor.

Solas threw on yesterday’s suit and ran his secret errand, a smile barely leaving his face for nearly two hours. Today the only secret that mattered was the one in his backseat.

The afternoon rolled around and he showered, his tuxedo freshly pressed hanging from his closet door. He stood about in his house in his underwear, weighing whether to wear the bowtie or the long black tie. He feared the bowtie may make him look like wait staff and settled with the long black tie. At three he picked up his phone to text Varric but there was already a message from Alana that gave the professor’s address. Solas checked the mirror one last time before heading to his car and picking up Varric.

He pulled into what looked like a condominium complex and without any prompting, Varric emerged from one of the main doors of the building. Without a word he opened the passenger door and sat beside Solas, tucking the coattails of his tux under him as he sat.

“Varric,” Solas greeted him somewhat apprehensively.

“Savior,” he responded, his jaw tense.

Solas pulled out of the condo’s subdivision, stopped at light. “I’m going to warn you now, Varric, this is a half hour drive. If you are silent it may be just as uncomfortable as what is waiting for us at Vivienne’s tailor’s.”

“I know, Savior, I know, I just,” Varric sighed heavily, fingering his lapel, “I don’t know how to deal with this shit.”

“The charity ball? Or Cassandra?”

“Shit. Both.”

Solas nodded and allowed Varric to sit in uneasy silence. When he turned on to the tailor’s driveway, Varric came back to life.

“Jesus,” Varric hissed, grabbing the dashboard as the car bounced along the dirt road, “Dirt roads into the middle of the nowhere are _not_ what I think of when I think of Madame de Fer.”

“Trust me, Varric,” Solas chuckled, “When you see it, it is _exactly_ Madame de Fer.”

The house pulled into view and Varric let out a strangled laughed at its grand appearance. “You’re right, Savior. It is _exactly_ Madame de Fer.”

Before Solas could park, Josephine was rushing out of the house, fuming. Solas put the car in neutral and waited.

“What’s Ruffles on about now?” Varric asked.

“She didn’t know you were coming.”

“ _Oh._ ”

“Solas,” Josephine hissed, hitching up the skirt of her tailor-made dress as she walked across the dirt driveway, “Did you know about this?”

“Not until this morning, Lady Josephine,” he admitted, “You are looking lovely this evening, by the way.”

Josephine growled, exasperated, and stuck one recently manicured finger out at Varric. “ _You_ ,” she growled, “Had better not cause any trouble with Cassandra this evening.”

Varric held up his hands as if Josephine’s finger was a weapon. “Listen, Ruffles, I didn’t know either, alright? I’m not going to jeopardize Alana’s position.”

“You better not,” Josephine grumbled, “Cullen is going to ride with you two. Alana, Leliana, and I are riding with Cassandra.”

Solas nodded as Josephine whipped around, stomping over to Cassandra’s car. Leliana emerged with Alana, Cassandra right behind. All were wearing heavy, floor-length coats to protect their legs and dresses from the fall weather. Alana sent a quick wave his way before shuffling into Cassandra’s car. Cullen had snuck up on the car while Solas had been distracted. The man climbed into the back, shutting the door loudly behind him.

“So, ah, hello,” Cullen said, adjusting his suit as he buckled himself in.

“Hey Curly,” Varric mumbled.

Solas restrained a sigh as he pulled out behind Cassandra’s car. The tension was already getting to everyone.

“So,” Cullen said, “Tonight’s going to be… awkward.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Varric grumbled.

Solas let out a nervous chuckle. This was certainly going to be a night to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit so here's two chapters.


	49. The Lawn

Solas had only lived in the area for a few years. When he pulled into a long, gated driveway on the outskirts of town he admitted to never seeing or hearing of the place before. How someone could keep a building large enough for a ball off the map surprised him- yet, as they pulled around a sharp turn in the driveway, there it was.

The mansion was older; probably an old plantation based on the sheer amount of land the estate seemed to cover. The building itself imposed upon the land and sky, it’s three stories towering over the many cars parked in its yard. Solas could not make out just how far back the mansion went. With winter around the corner the sun had already set as they pulled in. Lights filtered through opaque curtains from the inside, the front lawn basking in the yellow lights. Strings of white lights decorated overhead of the designated parking areas. The lights also surrounded the massive French doors the seemed unable to close due to the steady stream of people coming in or going out for a cigarette. As such, they could hear bits of the orchestral band among the chattering of guests coming from inside.

“Christ,” Varric whispered from next to Solas, “We have to go in _there_?”

“Apprehensive?” Solas asked, turning off his car.

“I felt the stuffiness from the second I saw the gated driveway.”

“I’m sure there will be some stiff drinks available, Varric,” Cullen said, “And if not, I’ll help you look for a substitute.”

“You two certainly have high hopes for the company this evening,” Solas chuckled.

Varric turned to look at Solas, his usual sarcastic smile looking incredibly forced. “So, Savior, you want us to tell you when we find the strong stuff?”

“Please.”

Everyone chuckled, stepping out of the car, fixing the crumples in their suits that sitting had created. As soon as Solas had locked his car he found the girls had found them after having to park a few rows down. All had taken their coats off and Solas found himself speechless at the sheer amount of beauty before him.

Alana’s dress, now fitted to her body perfectly, flowed softly in the slight breeze, the petals of the dress sheer and wispy. The plunging neckline that accentuated Alana’s breasts and collarbones set the Beast on edge- it had been quiet for quite some time and now it began tugging at it’s chain. Solas maintained control, finally looking up at Alana’s set hair and professional makeup. The makeup artist had gone in exactly the direction Solas had been thinking, decorating Alana’s eyes with specs of green and gold, some imitating flora that her dress referenced. Before him, smiling, was his magnificent elven goddess. At that thought the Beast laid back down, bending before the will of his Queen.

“I believe someone may have to pick up Professor Solas’s jaw off the ground,” Leliana mentioned, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. Solas shut his mouth promptly, much to the enjoyment of the rest of the ladies. Alana blushed, laughing, and Solas swore he had never heard a sound more pleasing.

He turned to look at the rest of the women, just as elegantly dressed. Josephine’s yellow, floor-length dress shimmered, floral patterns accenting her bust. Leliana’s high-collared navy dress screamed professionalism and Cassandra’s golden dress imitated the texture of feathers. Solas took a quick glance over at Varric to see the English professor looking at his shoes. Cassandra, similarly, focused on the lights above her instead of the short man next to Solas.

A limo pulled up behind them, forcing everyone out of their reveries. Out of the limo stepped Vivienne, her stunning white dress flowing behind her.

“Vivienne-!” Alana said, turning in surprise.

“Darling, you did not think that because I was not to come with you that I was not personally invited by Mistress Celene herself?” Madame de Fer laughed, holding Alana’s hands as the limo pulled away.

“I am _so_ glad,” Alana said, her eyes shifting about looking for eavesdroppers, “I have never been so nervous in my life. Your expertise at my side makes me feel infinitely better.”

“Darling,” Vivienne said, “You have a few experts here besides me. Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, Solas-“

“Solas?” Alana asked, catching Solas’s eye. He stiffened, wondering what Vivienne might be inferring.

“If Solas has never mingled with the elite, I’ll eat my dress,” she said, “Now come, we don’t wish to stand in the lawn all night.”

The group began moving and Alana fell back to walk beside Solas. He did not dare take her arm, as it was important to uphold the front that they did not have a relationship tonight. However, after looking behind him, he did rest his hand lightly on her back, the Beast licking his lips. He was afforded the honor of looking tonight, not touching. At least, not until later.

“Have you really done something like this before?” Alana whispered as they neared the door.

“Yes,” he admitted, the tension in his body noticeable almost immediately. “How Vivienne knew is beyond me.”

“When? Did you do this often?”

“Perhaps that is a story for later,” he said as they neared the doors, “For now all you need to know is that I have your back.”

“Alana!” Josephine whispered back towards them, “You have to come up front when we make our entrance.”

Alana nodded and looked up at Solas, eyes wide with fear. He forced himself to relax and smile genuinely down at the beauty he was lucky enough to love.

“You’ll do fine, sweetheart,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the top of her head, “We’re all right behind you.”

Alana smiled and nodded before heading up to front the group. Varric came up beside Solas in silence. All around them guest’s chatter quieted as Alana came into sight, her head held high. Already her presence was commanding attention. The French doors opened, the music and smell of food hitting the group full force. Solas squinted, partially blinded by the sudden change in light. As his eyes adjusted, the grandeur of the estate surrounded him in stuffiness. He glanced back as the French doors closed behind them. The ball had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone cares, dresses! I want to draw everyone in these so badly.
> 
> Alana: http://www.labooks.ru/images/watermarked/detailed/5/savage_10.jpg
> 
> Cassandra: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/80/ee/45/80ee45da234af2df7edeef48697a0d40.jpg
> 
> Josephine: http://g01.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1X80dIXXXXXbmXpXXq6xXFXXX5/Yellow-Long-Evening-Dress-2015-New-Elegant-Black-Lace-Transparent-High-Collar-Fashion-floor-length-evening.jpg
> 
> Leliana: http://laceandtea.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/paolo3.jpg
> 
> Vivienne: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--WJD656EeC8/VSu2WUO5mmI/AAAAAAADREE/KD2QhqpZFD4/s1600/ashi3.jpg
> 
> I didn't want to spend forever describing everyone's dresses because Solas doesn't care too much about the other girl's dresses so I figured I'd put them here for anyone who was wondering haha.


	50. The Game

Chatter hushed as the group strode confidently forward through the parlor. The décor of the home was reminiscent of the American Federal style as if the owner of the home wished not to deviate from the estate’s origins. Solas admired the time accurate furniture and the high ceilings that accentuated every subtle wallpaper, every beige armchair. Every piece of ornament screamed “old” but the craftsmanship and fabrics told a different story. Their host had gone to some great lengths to either restore every piece of colonial culture she had found or had had some knick knacks and furniture custom made for the sake of her estate’s aesthetic.

As the entire building emanated the seventeenth century feeling, the fashion of the attendees, along with their smartphones and Louis Vuitton purses, clashed dramatically. Solas noted, however, that it wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant clash- it was a clash of the new and old, indeed, but one singular theme drew every dress and every piece of furniture together: the _wealth_. He could look nowhere and see one inch of cheap fabric, one button out of place, one fake diamond. It was all real, but for some of the attendee’s faces. Some of those, he noticed, were anything but.

The parlor was by no means small but when they reached the end of it towards the ballroom doors where a man awaited them, they all knew they had seen very little of what the house had to offer.

“And who might I be introducing tonight, my friends?” the man said.

“Alana Lavellan and guests,” Alana said, her voice unwavering.

Vivienne stood next to her and caught the man’s attention. “You know me, Sebastian,” she said, smiling.

The man hastily nodded and opened the door at Vivienne’s smile. Alana did her best not to react but raised a inquisitive eyebrow towards Vivienne. Solas caught Vivienne’s careful head nod as she allowed Alana to head through the doors first.

They stepped through the doors to see one of the largest rooms Solas had ever seen inside a home. The ballroom must have been a hundred yards across, buffet tables lining the walls, the ceiling so high that he could not imagine how someone managed to dust the cobwebs out of the corners. The entire far wall of the ballroom was covered in floor to ceiling windows, the outside patio visible due to the numerous paper lanterns that seemed to float, suspended in the darkness outside. Above them hung a large crystal chandelier, glittering rainbows every time a soft breeze came through the open glass door to the patio.

The man who had asked for their names, Sebastian, signaled to the band to stop playing. The strings held their last note for an acceptable amount of time before cutting off succinctly. Sebastian cleared his throat and grabbed the microphone by the door.

“Now introducing, Miss Alana Lavellan, Acting President of the local University, with her guests…”

Varric nudged Solas ever so slightly. Solas leaned over to hear the man’s whisper.

“They really do this shit? I feel like I’m in some historical novel.”

Solas smiled and nodded in his response. Alana stepped into the ballroom as her introduction was stated and as Sebastian rolled off the names those called followed her. At the other end of the ballroom, Solas noticed a woman in an enormous ball gown, the delicate collar rising far beyond the back of her head. That, he figured, must be Mistress Celene.

“Miss Josephine Montilyet, Secretary to the President’s office; Mister Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Head of Event Staff and Student Affairs; Miss Leliana, Head of University Media and Media Consultant; Miss Cassandra Pentaghast, Sheriff of the University Police Station; Mister Solas, Professor of Ancient Civilizations; and Mister Varric Tethras, Professor of English. Following the University’s honored guests comes Madame Vivienne, Professor of Women in History, and dear friend to Mistress Celene.”

Solas followed Cassandra carefully, thanking whoever wrote the introductions had not placed Varric and Cassandra near each other. As it was, Varric was already grumbling behind him.

“Professor of English,” Solas heard Varric mutter from behind him, “Everyone else’s was specific. I do literary classics. I write books. C’mon.”

His muttering cut off quickly after he heard one of Vivienne’s heels miss a step. Varric let out a soft gasp of either pain or surprise before he heard Vivienne whisper, “Oh, sorry dear, was that your ankle?”

Solas kept his head high and his face expressionless as they moved through the crowd towards Mistress Celene. Alana was already standing before her, shaking her hand in the strange delicate matter of the aristocracy who believe themselves as fragile as their antiques. He saw her curtsy quickly before heading off with Josephine.

He watched Cassandra, ignorant to the social niceties of such greetings or perhaps purposefully neglecting them, grabbed Celene’s hand in a firm handshake. The host did not look surprised at least, and Solas let out an internal sigh of relief when Cassandra bowed slightly before excusing herself. Solas moved in.

“Professor Solas, was it?” Mistress Celene said, reaching out her hand, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Solas took her hand, bowing slightly, and kissed it quickly before straightening. “The pleasure is mine, Mistress Celene. It is an honor to meet you at last.”

Celene smiled, leaving her hand in his. “This is my dear cousin Gaspard and his sister Florianne.”

Solas looked towards the two well-dressed people by Mistress Celene’s side and gave a curt, “A pleasure.”

“I do hope you enjoy the ball, Professor,” Celene said, “I have so looked forward to meeting you all.”

“The feeling is mutual, Mistress,” Solas said, smiling, “I will be sure to enjoy the evening.”

Her hand fell out of his grasp and he bowed slightly once more before heading over to where Alana stood. He caught her eye and realized she had been watching with distaste.

“I hope that look is because you found a hair in your food,” Solas whispered as he came within range, “It would be quite the scandal.”

Alana became aware of her expression and her face smoothed out accordingly. Her game face slipped on once more.

“No,” she said, taking a glass of champagne off a servant’s tray, “It was seeing you kiss the Mistress’s hand. Perhaps that is scandal enough for the night.”

Solas clenched his jaw. “I’m just playing the game, Alana.”

“You play it well.”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” she finally admitted, “Just disconcerting.”

“Better I play it well and throw off any possible rumors of us than do _that_ ,” Solas whispered, looking over at Varric’s clumsy attempt to greet the host. Being short, the man had tried to take Celene’s hand as Solas had but was nearly pulling the poor woman down in the attempt. Behind him Vivienne was fuming.

“Lord,” Alana said, “Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more.”

“Perhaps.”

Josephine appeared suddenly at Alana’s side, nearly breathless. “He’s here, I just heard it from the de Launcets.”

Alana turned towards the door in anticipation. Sebastian appeared once more, tapping the microphone quickly against his leg. Behind him three figures came out of the shadows of the parlor.

“Now introducing Mister Sethius Amladaris, Candidate for President of the University in the next election. He is followed by his guests Mister Raleigh Samson, Community Health Inspector, and Miss Calpernia, Welfare Coordinator for the community.”

All three stepped out into the ballroom, walking across to meet Mistress Celene. Alana watched them with narrowed eyes as Sethius kissed Celene’s hand. Solas caught the man’s, Samson’s, eye and took a quick sip of his wine before breaking eye contact and grabbing one of the hors d’oeuvres off a servant’s tray. Leliana came from behind Alana.

“Don’t stare. Looks bad. Let’s get you mingling with some of the notable persons here.”

Alana nodded and followed Leliana. Solas made a move to follow but Josephine stopped him.

“Not tonight, Solas,” she said, staring him down.

Solas sighed and took another sip of his wine. “Of course, Josephine. You have my word.”

Solas glanced back over at Sethius, Samson, and Calpernia. Their smiles seemed too sharp, too happy. He would watch them closely. Should any of them get too close to Alana, he may have to break his promise to Josephine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm with Varric, all this aristocracy makes me wanna vomit, honestly.  
> But at the same time this is ridiculously fun to write.


	51. Auction

The band’s playing had yet to turn to dance music so the mingling of the elite continued as more and more modern day aristocrats were announced. Solas watched from the shadows as Alana made the rounds, her face smooth but for the small smile she had plastered on in an attempt to seem genuinely happy to be meeting people. Leliana was often the instigator of such meetings and would quickly disperse once the initial introductions had been said. Josephine stood by, watching Alana’s interactions carefully as well as her alcoholic intake. When the conversation began winding up or turning to questions that Alana would have strong opinions about Josephine would jump in. Josephine then begged Alana’s attention elsewhere and passed her quietly to Leliana. There may have been no twirling dresses in the ballroom yet but Alana’s advisors were dancing nonetheless.

Solas had lost sight of Cassandra, probably as she wished not to be found. Varric, who had given up on finding a drink stiffer than champagne, wandered aimlessly looking for the sheriff. Cullen mingled uncomfortably with those who seemed to follow him about and Vivienne would occasionally be able to rescue him for a time.

Solas checked his watch. The auction would begin in a few minutes outside. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass, considering finishing it. His head was relatively clear. He had not interacted much during the evening as of yet- he was sure he could get away with another drink.

Before he had a chance to tip the glass, though, a figure came up beside him.

“Professor,” a deep voice greeted.

Solas looked over to see Sethius, tall and imposing beside him. Solas refused to act as perturbed as he was.

“Mister Amladaris. A pleasure,” Solas said, looking back over the ballroom in an act of nonchalance.

“I’m sure.”

Solas tipped the glass back and drank the rest of the wine. The man beside him in the shadows said nothing. The goosebumps rising on his neck sent a shiver down Solas’s spine but he repressed the shudder.

“An interesting array of guests, wouldn’t you say?” Sethius seemed to growl from beside him.

“Indeed there is.”

“And yet you seem to following one person’s journey across the ballroom quite carefully.”

Solas’s hands readjusted their grip on the wine glass. Sethius may as well have just admitted he was watching their whole group.

“From the sound of it,” Solas admitted, “You have been following her progress as well.”

“Should I not follow a rival’s movements?”

“Should I not follow my ally’s?”

Sethius quieted for a moment, either thrown by Solas’s dismissal or taking a drink of champagne.

“It may be seen as either your boss is untrustworthy in taking care of herself at these functions,” Sethius finally said, “Or as infatuation. She _is_ quite beautiful, wouldn’t you say?”

The Beast’s hackles rose. Solas kept his face stone but his insides bubbled. He _dare_ call her beautiful? The image of the circle of bruises around Alana’s wrist after her first meeting with Sethius snaked into his mind. How _dare_ he call her beautiful?

Solas looked down at his empty wine glass, regretting taking that last sip. He needed a moment to control himself. Sethius would want an answer. To not answer would be to concede to his accusations.

“Perhaps,” he forced out smoothly, “All of the women have had magnificent gowns made for the evening. Most are beauties, if only for one night. As for trusting Ms. Lavellan, I trust that she will befriend many tonight. It is my job to make sure she does not befriend the wrong people.”

Sethius seemed about to respond when Sebastian took up the microphone once more.

“The auction is about to start. If all guests wishing to participate would step out to the patio, we can begin.”

Solas turned towards Sethius and bowed slightly. “A pleasure talking to you, Mr. Amladaris. Enjoy the evening and best of luck in the auction.”

Sethius bowed back and Solas turned heel. It took all his restraint to not run to the cool air of the patio.

Josephine appeared beside him. “Was that-?” she started.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He’s poking for holes in our façade.”

“What should we watch for?”

“Prying eyes.”

They stepped outside to the sight of several rows of chairs, a stage, and several paper lanterns lighting the way. Solas sat beside Josephine and Varric. Beside Josephine were Alana, then Leliana and Cassandra. Cullen opted for the seat beside Varric. The whole party there, they began whispering to each other about the items and how much Alana would be able to bid. Josephine opted to be the spokesperson for the group as she had participated and run auctions before. They planned to at least pay a thousand dollars towards items in the charity, solidifying their stance as the highest paying donor at the ball.

Solas sat back and kept his smile to himself as different items went up for bid.

The auction ran without hitch, auctioning off antique chairs, bottles of rare wine, and strange vases. Alana had managed to win some of the items, spending about half of their allotted money for the auction. Her smile was huge as the bids went higher and higher as the tension rose. Winning put her in the most genuine mood he had seen her in all night.

The only problem was that Sethius was matching their bids. While Alana grinned at her success, Leliana and Josephine struggled to keep their smiles on their faces as Sethius continued to spend just as much money as they did. Everyone knew it would be a competition. None had realized how close it might be.

That was when Solas’s surprise came out.

The auctioneer cried in his usual quick chant, “And here we have an anonymous donation of a piece of contemporary art, bidding starts at two hundred dollars.”

Alana was checking her phone when Cassandra gasped, reaching around Leliana to shake Alana’s knee. The rest of the group sat in awe as Alana looked up.

The men bringing out the painting obviously had no idea that the subject sat just three rows from the stage. The oil paints depicted a glowing elven queen, radiant light emitting from her entire body and into the forest surrounding her. Her dress, the same dress Alana currently wore, flowed about her in a mysterious wind as rose petals and moths fluttered about in the air about her. At her feet lay the great black Beast, a wolf with six red eyes glowing, complacent in his taming.

“I promised you a painting,” Solas whispered over to her. Alana stared at him in shock, completely overwhelmed. The others were only beginning to catch on. None of them had known that Solas could paint.

“Do I hear two hundred dollars?” the auctioneer cried.

Josephine raised her card.

“Two hundred dollars, do I hear two-fifty? Two-fifty?”

A card rose amongst the crowd.

“Two-fifty, going for two-fifty, do I hear three?”

Before Josephine could raise her card, Sethius from across the row nudged Samson. Samson raised his card quickly.

“I hear three, going for three, do I hear three-fifty?”

Alana was tugging at Josephine’s arm. She raised the card.

“Three-fifty, I have three-fifty, do I hear-“

Sethius raised the card.

“Four, I have four,”

Josephine went up.

“Four-fifty, I have four-“

Another white card.

“Five, going for five hundred dollars, do I hear five-fifty?”

Sethius raised his card.

“Five-fifty, we have five-fifty-“

Alana sighed, letting go of Josephine’s arm. She had run out of money for bid. Solas tapped Josephine’s shoulder.

“Keep bidding, Josephine.”

“But we don’t have-“

“I do. Keep bidding.”

Josephine raised the card and Alana looked over, eyes wide.

“Six! We have six hundred, do I hear-“

Sethius raised his card. Solas grimaced. This was getting ridiculous.

“How high should I go, Solas?” Josephine hissed, throwing up her card once more to which the auctioneer cried “Seven hundred!”

“The next time he goes up I want you to bid one thousand.”

“ _Solas_ -“

“Seven-fifty! Going for seven-fifty! Any takers for eight?”

“Josephine, trust me.”

“But Solas that’s-“

“Going once! Going twice!”

Josephine stood, card in the air. “One thousand!” she said, perhaps a bit louder than needed.

Sethius’s nudged Samson once more. Samson stood, proclaiming, “Fifteen hundred!”

Josephine looked down at Solas. Solas just nodded.

“Two thousand!”

Samson looked back at Sethius. There was some grumbling between the two before Samson sat down, dejected.

“Going for two thousand! Going once!”

Alana tried reasoning with him, hissing, “Solas, don’t be reckless, take it back, it’s alright-“

“Going twice!”

“You can’t take back a bid, Alana,” he whispered, patting her knee with a smile.

“ _Solas-_ “

“Sold to Miss Alana Lavellan, for two thousand dollars!”

Josephine sat down, sweat dripping from her brow. She turned toward Solas, brow furrowed. “I cannot _believe_ you.”

Solas smiled and took out his checkbook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than usual but I'm trying to not make this ball more chapters than needed haha.  
> Also side note, Sebastian the butler guy is not DA2 Sebastian. I didn't even think of that until I reread it and was like.... welp, hope no one took offense to that, haha. I just thought Sebastian sounded like a butler name.


	52. The Dance

As people filed back into the ballroom after the auction, Solas stayed amongst their party. Josephine had disappeared, negotiating the pick up and payment of the items they had won at auction. Cassandra, Varric, and Cullen had disappeared back into the ballroom with the crowds.

Leliana stood beside Alana, whispering something in her ear. Solas turned to give them some privacy. He caught a servant’s eye and the woman came over carrying a tray of sherry. Solas took three and thanked her before turning back. Alana was nodding and Leliana had backed away.

“Sherry?” he offered the two ladies.

Leliana took a glass. “Thank you, Solas. If you two don’t mind I’d like to speak to Vivienne.”

“By all means, Miss Leliana,” Solas said.

Leliana bowed slightly and retreated back to the ballroom, sipping at her sherry.

He turned his attention to Alana, her hand partially outreached for the glass he held. Solas relinquished the glass with a smile as Alana took a quick look around before tilting her head back and drinking a mouthful. Solas took the opportunity to scan the patio. Very few people remained, mostly servants stacking the chairs and returning them to a side door. He put one hand on the small of Alana’s back.

“That bad?” he whispered.

Alana wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “You have no idea.”

“I thought with your intense love of Pride and Prejudice you might be radiating excitement all night.”

“You’d think so,” she muttered, “But now I see why Darcy never talked at dances. Dreadful things. Barely any dancing, awful lot of pompousness garnering the most powerful’s attention.”

“Have you spoken with Mistress Celene?”

“Yes. She’s all right, I suppose. Not as conceited as the rest seem. Still putting on airs though.”

“Sweetheart, everyone’s putting on airs tonight. Even you.”

Alana sighed and took a dignified sip of sherry. “I know, Solas, I know.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the ball through the tall windows. The band had begun to play dancing music and dresses shone, spinning under the yellow light of the chandelier. His hand on her back lowered, cupping the curve of her waist instead. Pleasant warmth tingled throughout his body.

“Thank you, by the way,” Alana said, “The painting is beautiful. I wish it had not cost you two grand, though. Is there any way I can repay you?”

“No. It may surprise you to know that I had enough set aside exactly for this instance to go much higher.”

Alana turned toward him in shock. “You planned to spend _more_?”

“Well, I’d hoped not more than a few thousand but I was pleasantly surprised.”

“A _few_ thousand?”

“Ah-“

“Solas just how much-“

At that moment Josephine came up from behind them, grabbing Solas’s arm. He immediately retracted his hand from Alana’s waist as they both faced the secretary.

“You two will be the death of me, I swear.”

“Josie, no one’s out here, it was just a hand on my hip we weren’t making out or anything.”

“No, not that!” Josephine grumbled, “The surprises from you two! I had carefully planned exactly how tonight was to run and you two do your best to dismantle everything I’ve worked for!”

“Josie, you’re overreacting.”

“No! You, Alana, bringing Varric here! What on _earth_ were you thinking? The man has no manners besides the whole conflict Cassandra. He’s spent most of the night wandering around getting drunk!” Josephine whipped about to face Solas. “And _you_. You entered that piece without telling _anyone_ and then set about making ridiculous bets on it. Does it not look suspicious that a painting depicting, no matter how loosely, Alana bought _by_ Alana raised the most money?” Josephine grabbed Solas’s sherry out of his hands and began stomping away. “You two are out to destroy us all, I swear! You’ll be the end of us all!”

Solas and Alana watched her go, sipping sherry every few steps until the main doors. Josephine then straightened up, dropped the sherry glass in the bushes, and walked through completely composed. Alana began giggling.

“I knew it would happen eventually,” she said, “I knew Josie’d snap.”

“You don’t think she’s serious?”

“Oh she’s very serious. She’s also overreacting.”

“I agree.”

“We’ll be forgiven by tomorrow.”

“Oh I’m sure.”

They both chuckled. Solas looked for a servant outside that could possibly bring him more alcohol. When he neglected to find anyone out on the patio at all he turned back to Alana. She was holding her glass close to her chest, looking into the ballroom, the light reflected on her face.

The patio lanterns were suddenly out. They both looked up into the darkness, confused.

“I thought they were real,” Alana muttered, sounding disappointed.

“There are few real things here, I’m afraid,” he said quietly.

Alana huffed. “I suppose that’s the staff telling us to get back inside, then.”

She made a move to walk towards the door but Solas reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. Alana stopped and looked back at him. He slowly made to take her sherry glass and looked down into it. Barely a sip left. He knocked the sherry back with one practiced swig and threw the glass into the lawn. Alana smiled.

“Do you think you will be missed for one dance, Miss Lavellan?” he asked, his voice thick with lust.

She leaned in close, hands touching his chest. He could smell her, lilacs, citrus, and the faint scent of alcohol on her breath. His hands rested on her shoulders, the thin fabric of the dress slipping beneath even the gentlest grip.

“I think they’ll survive without me for a few minutes,” she whispered, her mouth lingering dangerously close to his neck. The Beast pulled at its chain and Solas licked his lips.

He took her left hand in his, letting his right trail down the edges of the neckline of her dress. One finger lightly skimmed over top of one side of her breast before quickly landing on her waist. Her free hand trailed up his chest and caressed his neck, one finger tracing his jawline, before letting the hand rest on his shoulder. From the doors of the ballroom came the sound of a slow waltz.

Solas began leading before he realized that Alana had no clue what the steps were. He smiled and stopped, staring at her flushed face. With one quick motion he lifted her from the waist and stood her upon his own feet. He resumed leading, dancing through the cool fall night, her dress billowing in the chill wind, her soft laughter in his ear. Above them fake paper lanterns swayed and crinkled; behind them chatter and music emanated from the glass doors. At every turn of his feet the light on her face would shift and he reveled in the dance.

His breath hitched every time his elven goddess laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I imagine them dancing to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LH8te9Wvi-c


	53. Time

Too many glasses of champagne. Too many faces. Solas might have regretted his alcohol intake if the rest of the party had not also been inebriated. Events and faces melded together. The spinning of ball gowns eluded time’s grasp, spinning, spinning, blurring. An hour was five minutes. Ten minutes was a day. His composure did not suffer as some might- he merely felt like smiling more.

 

Five minutes.

 

A cool hand on his shoulder, an even colder expression. He was dancing with Cassandra. Her eyes were focused somewhere past his head, her face pale but for the rouge of drink. He dared not say anything. Instead he glided across the floor with her in tow, her dancing unaffected by alcohol.

It wasn’t until the dance entered it’s last few steps did she speak.

“Is it worth it?”

Solas’s head took a moment to focus. Unable to full grasp the subtleties she may have been displaying that would have led him to a clue of what she meant, he gave up guessing.

“No one can tell you anything’s worth to you but yourself,” he said, twirling her. The golden fabric of her dress seemed to shimmer under the chandelier’s light. With one last held harmony, the quartet ended the song. Solas bowed, still holding Cassandra’s hand. Guests around them clapped and began searching for new partners. Solas straightened and saw Cassandra’s expression had softened. Without a word, she walked past him, heels clicking off the dance floor. Solas watched her disappear into the crowd sadly. She had not looked at him the entire dance.

 

 

An hour.

 

“Ah yes, in my day we didn’t learn about any imagined history!” the man laughed, “Everything was facts and dates in the history books! No disputing, no theorizing- you mentioned that you _thought_ something and there’d be a ruler ‘cross your hands!”

Solas nodded politely. The man was an alumnus of the university, some business tycoon who had graduated some thirty years ago. Josephine had warned him that nearly everyone in attendance had influence and so Solas kept his mouth shut. Still, he thought the drink in his hand would be quite an addition to the man’s face.

Tight-lipped and smiling, Solas looked out over the ballroom and saw the top of Alana’s head. She was speaking to a woman in a maroon dress with black lining. Something about the woman was familiar. He searched his muddled brain for clues as to who she might be when-

“Isn’t that right, Professor?” the man bellowed, laughing.

Solas turned his attention back to the man. The people around them were chuckling as well, face turned expectantly at him for an answer.

“I am not sure,” Solas muttered, taking a sip of champagne.

“Really?” the man boomed, “I thought all history teachers had a thing for wars. Should follow that you’re interested in what’s happening currently with the world, doesn’t it?”

Solas felt his grip on his glass tighten. “Perhaps I say I am unsure because I do not speak for all historians. Personally, I despise any mention of war and hate when wars occur in history. So much information, so much culture, lost over the petty feuds of rich men.”

The man’s face flushed as he shifted uncomfortably in his suit. The people about them began to disperse.

“If you’ll excuse me, sir,” Solas muttered, walking away. He lost himself in the crowd, dodging dancers and skirting socialites until he felt safe enough to look behind him. Solas looked out into the sea of faces. The man was nowhere to be found, thankfully. Unfortunately, neither was Alana.

 

 

Ten minutes.

 

Solas watched from the back wall as Alana stopped the sabotage. It seemed that Miss Florianne had attempted to embarrass her cousin Celene several times that evening to no avail. Josephine had stopped a tray of food from ruining Mistress Celene’s dress. Cullen had caught Celene before she fell, tripped by an unknown partygoer. Gaspard had been foolishly obvious when trying to slip a laxative into Celene’s drink. Leliana had been the one to save Celene that time.

Now, Florianne was fed up. It seemed that she would do anything to drag Celene down, even if it meant ruining her own reputation. Alana had pushed through the crowd the moment Florianne broke a violin over her knee. The quartet sat startled, the dancers stopped dancing, and a hush fell over the room.

“How _dare_ you all bend a knee before her? How _dare_ you blindly follow her, drink _my_ champagne, dance in _my_ ballroom, encroach upon _my_ estate? Celene was _never_ supposed to receive the inheritance! It was to go to me! And now you all sit on _my_ estate and worship her as if she’s a queen! Well let me tell you! She has had an affair with a _maid_! A maid who-“

“Step down, Florianne,” Alana’s voice boomed, “No one here has a quarrel with Celene but you.”

“And _you_!” Florianne growled, “You’re nothing but an upstart! You think you can mingle with us because you _might_ run a university, because you have a little bit of money, because you were able to afford that dress! Well I’ve got news for you! No one likes you! No one wants you running the school! I’ll-“

“Regardless of what you think of me, I do not ‘mingle’ here except to support the children’s hospital and meet the many fine friends I’ve found here tonight. I will not stand by and allow you to soil this wonderful event with your personal grudges.”

A quiet applause began behind Alana and swelled throughout the ballroom. Florianne looked about, barring her teeth and shouting but she could no longer be heard. It wasn’t until Mistress Celene herself appeared beside Alana did the applause die down.

“Sebastian,” Celene called, “Please have security escort my dear cousin Florianne off the estate. It seems she may have had too much to drink.”

Laughter and applause once again resounded off the high ceilings of the ballroom. As two heavy-set men dragged Florianne away, Celene walked off into the crowd with Alana’s hand in hers.

Solas smiled and lifted his champagne glass in Alana’s direction as she disappeared.

 

 

A day.

 

“No, Solas, your car can’t drive itself home. Not to mention Varric and Cullen.”

Solas nodded at Josephine. She towered over him as he sat on a bench.

“That would be true, Miss Montilyet, if I had a car to drive home.”

Josephine stared at him, nonplussed. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“Varric asked for the use of my car. It appeared urgent so I obliged.”

“And how are we supposed to get everyone home now?”

“I apologize for making your evening worse, Josephine, but it did seem urgent.”

She huffed, “Well, I still think I should cut you off.”

“Have I made any social blunders that hurt our cause in any way?”

“No, but-“

“This will be my last glass, Josephine,” he consented, “And I apologize for the transportation issue.”

She nodded, appeased, and left to round up the rest of their party. Solas sat on that bench, watching the skirts of the ladies brush against each other, the shoes of the gentlemen slyly stepping on cigarette butts. The fogginess of his head would not yield. He had drank too much and eaten too little.

Time seemed to stretch sitting on the bench. Skirts grew fewer; ashes on the dance floor were left undisturbed. Heels still clicked and the quartet (now a trio) still played. The mist in his head did not lift though his last glass had been taken what seemed like hours ago. He stared at the floor. Josephine would not abandon him here without a car. But she had been gone for an eternity.

Petals landed on his shoes. Solas looked up to see his elven goddess, shining and bright before him. She held out a hand and he stood.

“Vivienne called back the limo. We’re all riding back to her tailor’s house and spending the night.”

“As you say.”

He followed his goddess through the crowds to the lawn. A limousine had arrived and the group filed in. He noticed Cassandra was missing but no one commented on it. When Cullen finally shut the door and the vehicle began moving, he looked to his goddess with a smile. Her weary smile lit up his soul. Somewhere behind them an enchanted evening continued but the highlight of Solas’s night was the moment his goddess laid her head against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder allowed himself to close his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A few days" I said.  
> Im so sorry I am trying.


	54. Clothes

A high, vaulted ceiling greeted him when he woke. His mind was blank. The room was unfamiliar and his head was pounding, unable to focus. Solas sat up to see Cullen sprawled out blankets and pillows across the carpeted foyer. Josephine had commandeered a loveseat, limbs at odd angles, her face buried beneath pillows. There was no sign of Vivienne, Leliana, or Alana.

He nearly kicked off the blanket before realizing he was naked but for his boxer briefs. Frowning, he wrapped the blanket around his waist as he stood. His clothes were nowhere to be seen.

It was nearly silent in the huge estate. Solas could not decide if it were because of the acoustics or the expanse of the house. Either way he wandered out of the foyer, scanning each fainting couch or high-backed chair for his clothes. Within a few moments he heard the soft _clink_ ing of dishes. Perhaps it was Alana and he could find her before his hosts found him naked and lost in their house.

As he followed the soft sounds, voices quietly added to the mix. Eventually he found himself in a hallway, the sounds coming from the open archway on his left. He made to quietly sneak a glance before entering but before he could reach the door the voices started again.

“It was fortunate that you met her then. Though I would ask that you exercise caution when dealing with her.”

“Why’s that?” It was Alana.

“I’ve dealt with her before. It’s not that she’s working for Sethius, I highly doubt that. I just think she only works for herself.”

“Which, you think, can be just as dangerous?”

“Any wild card is dangerous, Alana. If you cannot predict their actions then you cannot ever fully trust them.”

Alana sighed, and Solas heard her sipping from a cup. There was a soft _chink_ as the cup returned to its saucer.

“Alana, do you trust me?”

“Of course, Leliana. I’d trust you with my life!”

“Then I want you to listen to me. I’ve been doing some research into Solas.”

Solas felt his skin break out in goose bumps. He had seen the breadth of Leliana’s connections and information. He had to act soon or-

“His last job was at a university a few hundred miles away. He had friends, a steady job with research funds, rumors of a lady friend- but he left it all without saying anything to anyone. His friends no longer speak of him, his replacement doesn’t know a thing about it and neither do the heads of the university. He essentially just dropped off the map.”

Silence. Solas grit his teeth. He knew if he walked in now they might assume he was eavesdropping and he didn’t need to add that to whatever else Leliana had found.

“Do you think he-?”

“I don’t know, Alana. I didn’t find anything in the police blotters, no crimes committed so at least if it was something it wasn’t something big. Or perhaps it was a personal matter. Has he…” Leliana paused, uncomfortable. “Has he spoken of any past… companions?”

“No,” Alana whispered, “Nothing.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you this to ruin what happened last night. I just wanted to warn you. I don’t know why he left or what he did that warranted such a move but we don’t know anything about him but what we’ve seen.”

“I appreciate it, Leliana.”

His stomach sank. Last night had been wonderful even in the midst of political scandal. Had Leliana just ruined that? Was her trust in him gone? He looked down at his bare chest and wondered if this was now extremely inappropriate.

“On a lighter note- that _painting_.”

Alana giggled.

“I’ve never seen such a display of affection. I’m sure Cassandra was blushing.”

“I don’t remember,” Alana laughed, “I was too caught up in the fact that I was a beautiful elven princess.”

“Josephine nearly had a heart attack.”

“Gods, I wish her the best rest. She needs it after how much we made her work last night.”

Solas took a deep breath and silently slinked down the hall a bit. He turned and began marching towards the door, making sure his footsteps echoed in the hall.  
“Oh don’t let her fool you, she enjoys every minute of it,” Leliana said as Solas arrived in the archway. Both girls looked at him, holding steaming cups of tea in delicate china. Leliana raised her eyebrows and Alana struggled to hold her tea in her mouth.

“Good morning Solas,” Leliana said, “Did your clothes walk away last night?”

Alana laughed, thankfully after swallowing her tea. Solas smiled and grabbed on to the knot he had created to keep his blanket up tighter.

“They did seem to disappear. I was hoping perhaps Alana might know where they may have gone.”

Alana stood, still laughing, “Come here, I’ll help you look.”

The left the kitchen hand in hand and Solas averted his gaze from Leliana. Alana’s hand was warm in his and he could still smell the perfume from last night on her neck. If they had been anywhere else-

And yet she did not look at him. She was smiling, squeezing his hand at intervals, but her gaze never met his. Dread began to seep into his bones, weighing down every step. He had begun to lose her. If the truth were to ever come out-

“Pff, here they are,” she said, leaning down to grab his crumpled tux from under a end table, “We gave you to Cullen because you were to heavy for us to carry. He must have stripped you right out the door.”

Solas laughed and mentioned thanking Rutherford. She still hadn’t looked at him.


	55. Weighted Lips

“There’ll be a new face at lunch.”

Solas raised an eyebrow as he taste tested the sauce. Alana reclined on the couch nearest to the kitchen, one of his books in her lap. She had been adamant that he lend her one of his published works and he had given her his favorite, the one on African history. It was by far the largest he had- it would no doubt keep her busy for quite some time.

“And who might that be? Someone from the ball perhaps?” he asked, returning the spoon into the pot to stir in some extra pepper.

“Yes. Her name is Morrigan. She also studies history, but it’s different.”

The name tickled the back of his brain. He had heard that name before. “Different in what way?”

“She’s more about preserving and restoring. Deals a lot with literature.”

Solas felt the itch in his brain of barely remembering. Something about that description sent alarm bells ringing in his brain but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He tested the sauce again. It was ready.

“Would you like me to make you a plate?”

“I’ll come in and grab it.”

Alana appeared from around the corner, folding her reading glasses and setting them on the counter. He offered her a plate. She smiled softly and he kissed her forehead. No matter how tired she was from the ball, she still looked radiant. He watched as she heaped spaghetti onto her plate, drowning the noodles in sauce and meatballs. For now he would forget this Morrigan woman and revel in Alana’s light.

But Alana would not have it.

“She has been working for Celene but I offered her a job here. We’re a little low in the history department anyway, as you know,” she continued, spreading cheese across her plate, “and she actually offered to bring in a lecturer on ancient literature. Might be something worth investing in. We don’t have many history majors.”

The alarm bells were near deafening. It took all his concentration to keep his face and hands still while he scooped the spaghetti onto his plate. _Lecturer on ancient literature, where have I-?  
_ Alana turned to face him, plate full. “Couch or dining table?”

Solas glanced at his dining table, once clean and clear, now covered with books and mail. He noted that he no longer felt the compulsion to clean before Alana came over anymore.

“Perhaps the couch would be best,” he said evenly, “Would you care to watch a movie?”

The change of subject, surprisingly, worked. “Oh, yeah! I can’t wait to sift through your movie collection. What guilty pleasures await!”

Solas managed a smile and followed her out to the living room, inwardly sighing in relief. Something was screaming at him that there was danger in Alana’s words but he was too tired, too hungover to figure out where the danger was. It would be best to investigate on his own time.

Alana crouched before his small entertainment stand, opening the bottom cupboards. Inside were numerous DVDs, most of which were documentaries. Her shoulders seemed to slump until she pulled one out- behind it lay a whole other layer of movies, _real_ movies, for her to pick from. He couldn’t help but smile.

“I knew you couldn’t be a total nerd,” she muttered, pulling the documentaries neatly out of the cupboard. She sifted through the titles as Solas sat back, twirling his pasta around his fork. Whatever she chose, it would keep the conversation from straying back to the danger zone for at least a few hours.

“God, all your movies are bummers, Solas. Don’t you have any movies that aren’t doom and gloom?”

Solas laughed, “To be frank, no. I find happy endings too counterfeit. The real world is not so kind.”

“And yet you sit through my romance movies.”

“A labor of love.”

Alana laughed but it sounded off. Her back was towards him so he could not see her expression. He hoped it was just her exhaustion but somehow he knew she wasn’t acting right.

“Finally,” she grumbled good-naturedly, “Something that’s not a complete buzzkill.”

She slipped the DVD in and settled into the couch beside him as the desolate winterscape of _Fargo_ ’s title screen appeared on the TV. Solas hit play and they sat in silence as the movie began to play.

Alana was acting strangely, there was no room for doubt in Solas’s mind. Throughout the first half-hour of the movie she fidgeted, as if she couldn’t get comfortable. Their bodies barely touched, each brush against him sent her fidgeting once more. She had barely made a dent in her food. The spaghetti had been moved about on her plate, a meatball stuck on the end of her fork. Solas paused the movie after forty-five minutes of uncomfortable silence.

“Alana, what is troubling you?” he asked, setting his empty plate down on the coffee table.

Alana fidgeted, looking at her plate. “It’s really stupid. I shouldn’t even bring it up.”

Solas took her plate from her, setting it beside his empty one. He turned towards her and gently grabbed her hands. She would not meet his eyes. “Alana-” he started, his voice stern.

“I just,” she started and sighed. “How many women have you dated?”

“What?”

Alana immediately began to backtrack, “See, it’s stupid, I shouldn’t have even-“

“Why is this important to you?” he asked, searching her face. She still would not meet his gaze and he sighed. “I will tell you, I have no qualms about that, but I feel like there’s more to it.”

“Solas, I just. I just don’t _know_ anything about you.”

He immediately stilled. Here was the danger. Alarm bells blaring again.

“I know you paint, I know you write, I know you cook, and I know you went to college,” she explained, “I know you like art and history and learning. I know you don’t like sleeping with too many pillows and I know you don’t like shellfish and I know you don’t like tea. But what does that amount to? I don’t know who you _are_ , Solas.”

She finally met his gaze, eyes wide and fearful as if he was going to yell at her. He knew he would do no such thing but he also knew he had to tread lightly.

“I have never intentionally hidden anything from my past from you, Alana,” he said, the lie thick in his mouth, “Ask what you will. I do not wish to cause you further pain.”

“Answer my first question. How many women?”

“You and one other.”

“Serious?”

“Only on one end.”

Alana nodded, looking at his hands in hers.

“Why did you take the job here at the university?”

“I needed a change,” he said carefully, “Those I thought wise and caring betrayed my trust. I had no desire to live there anymore. So I saw this job opening and moved to find greener pastures.”

“Do you want to…?”

“Explain? I’d rather not but if it’s important to you, I will.”

Alana sighed, taking her hands back. “No. This was dumb. I don’t want to make you talk about things that make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for jumping you like this.”

“Don’t,” he whispered, his throat tight with his deception, “I’d rather you know. I swear it.”

A small smile played at her lips. Solas knew the danger had passed but he felt no better for it. Alana scoffed and said, “I’m sorry, no more questions for now, I really shouldn’t have pried. I’ve ruined a perfectly good night and made you uncomfortable.”

“You haven’t in the slightest,” he lied, picking up the remote, “Shall we continue? Or would you like me to reheat your food?”

“Let’s just keep watching,” she said. He obliged and hit play, the movie starting back up again as Alana settled in. He put his arm around her and without any fuss she leaned into his touch, content for the present.

But while Alana relaxed, halfway satisfied with his answers, inside him the Beast growled, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through his chest. He had added more lies to his mental scoreboard, wincing as he remembered the heavy weight of his tongue as each passed his lips. He looked down at her, gazing at her face, wondering how it would look when she eventually found him out. Solas closed his eyes and hoped he’d never have to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry if that chapter titled made you think smut hahaha.
> 
> So. Hi everyone. Been a bit. I honestly thought for a while that maybe it was time to give it up. I was super close. I reread this and I just kinda felt like shit about it. It needs serious reworking that I don't have time to give it. And yet... there are quite a few of you invested in it. I'd hate to let you guys down. So for real- I'm going to finish this out. How long that will take is best not guessed (aka if I try to guess Ill be way off and then feel guilty about it). 
> 
> With the release of Trespasser I've actually had to completely rework the ending/backstory but honestly it's a lot more solid now than it was before (Thank the Creators). But now since I have a plan and an end goal, there will be quite a few less... filler chapters? I guess that's what I'd call them. Every chapter is going to move the plot (as it should haha) towards the end goal here and then I can finally leave you guys with some closure haha. 
> 
> But seriously, thank you to everyone who has ever commented, subscribed, left kudos... It means so much to me. Even though I'm looking back at this and seeing how much work it needs, it did help me get into the habit of writing again (Ive been writing a lot actually just not this... whoops haha) and for that I will be forever thankful to those of you who supported me.
> 
> Just a reiteration: this is not a goodbye by any means. Im finishing this out one way or another and I hope you continue to enjoy it. :)


	56. Yellow Eyes

Yellow eyes.

It had been a long time since he had seen their like- long enough to forget the name but not long enough to forget their brilliance. These eyes were different- younger, fresher, darting quickly as their attention was called elsewhere. But they were _hers_.

Hearing her name the night before had sent off his warning bells and he hadn’t known why. Now he kicked himself, the Beast emitting a low, continuous growl. Morrigan. Of course he had known of her. Just as he had known her mother.

Thankfully Morrigan did not recognize him. How could she? He had heard of her birth through the grapevine long ago. They had never met. He had never thought they would- meeting her daughter was the last thing that he had wanted to do.

But in every movement he saw _her_.

Mythal.

The historian’s presence completely unnerved him- he was grateful that she did not stay at lunch long. She did not seem to have gained her mother’s patience, he noted. The dining hall seemed too much for her to handle, the constant chatter, the masses crowding. Solas did his best to keep his eyes off her but in truth, it was difficult. She fascinated him and scared him in the same breath- a remnant of a remarkable woman whom he had not thought to ever see again.

But that seemed about to change.

Alana had mentioned that Morrigan was offering the services of a lecturer on ancient literature. There was no doubt in his mind who that would be. Whether or not she knew he worked here now, he did not know and did not want to find out. He couldn’t be present, no matter what it meant for his position. He could not greet her, could not give her accommodations. He would not allow his old life to seep into this one.

All the while, he knew Alana was watching him. Every time she grabbed his attention he smiled as genuinely as possible, kept his voice light. Every time, she turned away from the conversation, eyebrows knitted together. His façade was failing.

He caught Leliana’s eye and saw her watching.

_Damn her_.

She had planted the seed of doubt in Alana’s mind and at the worst possible time. How could he convince Alana that he was hiding nothing while he had to constantly pretend to not know Morrigan, not know that Mythal was near, not know Mythal-?

He couldn’t. It was that simple. He _was_ hiding- and more than one thing.

Once lunch was over, he could not help but stew in his own distress. If Mythal knew that he was here and spoke to Alana there was a chance he’d be found out. If she didn’t but Alana so much as mentioned his name, he could be found out. Alana’s book, his book, still lay hidden, but now it seemed to be the only thing in his house he could remember. She had not asked about it in some time- the ball had helped him in that regard. The e-mail still sat in his inbox, flashing red-

“Solas.”

Her voice broke him from his internal monologue of dread. He looked down and saw her face composed in way he had never seen before. Stiff. Mask-like.

_Detached_.

Solas scrambled to shut out the fear, shut out the doubt. He loved this woman, loved her more than he had thought possible and-

“What’s up with you?” she asked, turning away from him, “You’re acting… distant.”

“I am sorry, Alana, I am preoccupied.”

“With?”

Wrong thing to say. He kicked himself. He tried honesty: “That Morrigan woman.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips tight and he attempted to recover.

“I only mean that she has so little patience,” he said, “She did not wish to stay long amongst inquiring students. How will she survive with several classes of fifty or more inquiring students a day?”

Nervous, he waited for her reaction. Within a few seconds Alana’s mask cracked, her shoulders relaxing. Solas did all he could to hold back a sigh of relief.

“You’re not wrong. She’s also quite. Hm. Abrasive?”

“Indeed. A small wonder she is a teacher at all.”

Alana frowned at him. “Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes. I don’t know if one lunch is enough to judge someone’s teaching abilities.”

He remained silent, realizing he had overstepped his bounds in an effort to send Morrigan on her way. Alana didn’t seem to notice, though.

“Either way, she’s agreed to bring in that lecturer next week. I’ve already sent the info to Leliana- there’ll be posters up by tomorrow and an ad in the school paper. Both Morrigan and her guest should be great voices for me during the election.”

The election. He had nearly forgotten- all the while he had been with Alana she had been waiting for this vote. All the while he stewed in the past, Alana’s eyes were on the future. A future he had wanted to be a part of.

But was that possible anymore?

His past was running to greet him at every corner and every question Alana asked his mouth spouted half-truths. Every time he looked at her, her eyes seemed distant, questioning- Leliana had cast doubt upon him and had not been winning it back.

As much as these things were true, though, when he looked at her glowing in the golden fall sunlight he couldn’t bear to leave her. Not just her touch, either- seeing her standing in the kitchen, a t-shirt hanging to her knees; her laugh as she kissed him, breath smelling of Thai food; her clutching hands as she woke in the middle of the night from another burning nightmare; her tired eyes as she sat, folded up on herself in his study’s armchair, reading a book. He couldn’t bear to leave those moments behind. It was selfish, cruel even, but he couldn’t. The Beast was shackled. No matter how much the past came back to gnaw on his mind, he was hopelessly ensnared in her.

Finding a sort of peace in his own helplessness around her, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Alana’s smile was the most genuine he’d seen since their dance at the ball and he rejoiced in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't tell me that Solas didnt know exactly who Morrigan was after the winter palace, honestly.


End file.
